"Attack!" a shout carried from the forward gun crews.
A moment later, Obi-Wan saw thousands of new droids begin their march toward the Republic positions in endless ranks.
Hundreds and thousands of the Confederacy's mechanical soldiers, generously pouring fire onto the Republic lines, advanced inexorably and inevitably—like a sentient's boot on an anthill.
Only one small clarification troubled Obi-Wan.
The anthill was now the Republic base.
From the very first fight, it had seemed to him they were being drawn into a trap. Too tempting a target—Christophsis, rich in crystal mines and minerals. The Senator from Alderaan, Bail Organa, had effectively taken it upon himself to organize a refugee camp on the planet. The ruling elite had managed to leave, taking everything valuable with them. Ordinary people were left to languish in slavery under the CIS heel.
Anakin had quite rightly remarked (though Obi-Wan caught himself thinking he would never openly support that hypothesis) that if Organa hadn't been on the planet—or if it had been someone in his place who wasn't an important figure in the Senate—the Republic would never have committed such significant forces to liberate this world.
Whatever political disagreements raged in the Senate between Chancellor Palpatine and Senator Organa, the former proved far from foolish, securing Jedi intervention in resolving the occupation of Christophsis—and, conveniently, in assisting Organa as well.
Now, the planet wasn't exactly dead…
Most of the population that survived the occupation had been transported by Republic warships to a safe place.
And Christophsis had become a battlefield.
Even though the Republic had managed to break the planet's orbital blockade, land troops with relative success, seize a massive beachhead—and not somewhere on the outskirts, but in the capital—the droids proved hard to break. The remaining ships of the siege group tested the Jedi Venators more than once—Venators busy evacuating civilians—and each time they fell back to the far edge of the system, to Christophsis's moon.
But the moment both ships departed orbit for the sector army headquarters, the Separatist ships returned to geostationary orbit. And once again, the planet's connection to the outside world was cut.
Obi-Wan deemed it unsafe to leave a single Venator in orbit. For all their power, alone they couldn't compete with five Munificent-class star frigates and one Lucrehulk, which made up the CIS force. If Obi-Wan hadn't sent both ships to the base for resupply, they would have fallen when new CIS ships arrived yesterday.
And, in fact, today's CIS offensive was the result of that reinforcement arriving yesterday. Scouts reported that to the six ships already in orbit, the enemy had added three more Munificents and one Providence-class.
The last one was a CIS novelty—essentially their answer to the brand-new Venators. Designed by the Quarren, it had not only strong weapons and defenses, but also nearly three hundred droids in its air wing. A more than worthy reply to a Republic ship from Kuat Drive Yards.
"Scouts report more than two hundred thousand droids," his former Padawan shared the latest situation. "That complicates the task somewhat, Master."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan began in his habitual mentoring tone, but noticed Skywalker twitch at the words, as if expecting another sermon to begin. "Anakin," the Jedi repeated more gently. "You know you don't have to call me that."
"It's hard, Master," the young Jedi smiled. "Everything's so sudden…"
A glorious victory over the Separatist armada in the Battle of Kamino had brought unexpected dividends. Anakin, without any trials, was knighted. An unheard-of thing by the Order's traditions. But it wasn't Obi-Wan's way to argue with the Council. Anakin, stunned by the news, accepted congratulations from his friends while Obi-Wan, Yoda, and Mace Windu spoke at a measured pace.
"The darkness is gathering," Mace said. "I can feel the dark side growing stronger in the Unknown Regions. That flare… we tracked it to the Gordian Reach, but beyond that… we're powerless."
"Could it be Sith work?" Obi-Wan asked. "Drawing our attention away from what's happening right under our noses."
"Shrouded in darkness, the future is," Yoda said. "Blind we are. The creation of the clone army we overlooked. The dark side has enveloped the Order. Worried for the Jedi, I am."
"We are strong," Windu said decisively. "Our scouts are already searching for this Sidious. And if he exists—we will find him."
"Is that so?" Yoda said with irony. Then, seeing confusion in the eyes of those present, he continued. "Knight Dougan."
Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. Rik Dougan had become like a thorn in Anakin's side. The former Padawan could barely keep still whenever that Jedi was mentioned, even in passing.
"That knight concerns me," Mace noted. "What he did in the Petranaki Arena, those abilities…"
"But the healers found no seed of the dark side in him," Obi-Wan said warily. "I fought beside him on Kamino. Beyond arrogance and bluntness, I didn't sense he was touched by darkness."
"And yet he used Destruction," Windu stunned the knight. Seeing Kenobi's confusion, he went on. "It's a Sith technique."
"Energy gathered," Yoda continued, "then released it he did—aimed at the droids. And yet his rage all Jedi felt, without exception. Pain. Fear. Hatred."
"Then why did you let him leave the Temple?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "He should have been questioned…"
"Ask our permission, he did not," Yoda said sadly. "Leaving on wanderings, broken and shattered, he returned from them a monolith. Stronger in the Force he became—though carefully he hides it."
"We should arrest him and question him," Kenobi insisted. "We can't allow a Sith spy in our ranks."
"He is not Sith," Windu rejected that. "There is no dark side in him. But we do not rule out that he has another source of knowledge besides the Order."
"A holocron?" Kenobi guessed.
"Perhaps," Yoda spread his hands. "Unknown to us, it is. Caution we must show. Dark Acolytes Dooku has begun recruiting. Their number grows. Not Sith they are, but dangerous no less."
"One of them was spotted on Christophsis. The Chancellor demanded urgent action," Mace explained. A moment later he added, "Palpatine demands our intervention. Senator Organa is helping refugees on that planet. They are blockaded by the CIS fleet."
"You're sending Anakin and me to Christophsis?" Kenobi clarified.
"Exactly," Yoda confirmed. "The Chancellor insists."
The Jedi Knight grimaced, as if something sour had appeared in his mouth.
"Palpatine is acting authoritarian," he noted. "He can't demand anything from us. Only the Senate…"
"The Senate is sentients," Mace said. "And right now the majority support the Chancellor. We cannot oppose the will of the Senate."
"But what if Dooku was right?" Kenobi asked, lowering his voice. "What if a Sith Lord controls the Senate?"
"Then needed may be your former apprentice," Yoda met Obi-Wan's eyes. "He is our tool against the dark side. Much you must teach him, Obi-Wan. And first of all—responsibility for others."
Kenobi stared into the Grand Master's eyes for a second. Then, submitting to Yoda's wisdom, he bowed.
***
The moment the Resolute slipped out of hyperspace, a stream of enemy salvos slammed into its forward shields. An instant later, a second Venator materialized off the port side. Another second—and three small Pelta-class frigate signatures formed a vertical triangle around the capital ships.
"Deflectors are holding, Admiral," one of the clones reported. Yularen nodded silently.
"Launch fighters," he ordered. "Concentrate fire on the enemy flagship."
"Yes, sir," the clone saluted.
He didn't like the Jedi plan. Not at all. Too reckless, too dangerous…
One glance at the enemy strength made it clear the Separatists had pulled in additional forces. It was possible that this time, with only a pair of Venators and three attached Peltas—which Dougan had pried loose almost in a fight—breaking such a blockade would not be possible.
The Separatists encircling the planet were shifting formation to increase the number of ships firing on the Republic cruisers. Sensors showed swarms of droid starfighters rapidly closing on Yularen's ships. Nearly half of the Separatist ships swung their guns onto the Venators. A Pelta on the Resolute's starboard side flared and broke apart.
"Maybe the Jedi's plan will work," flickered through the admiral's mind. But he hurried to throw it away. Jedi weren't commanders. Not admirals. Not officers. They didn't have—
"The Rhino has exited hyperspace," a clone reported.
Indeed, on the far side of Christophsis's orbit, a Jedi Acclamator signature appeared and immediately opened fire on the Confederacy's largest ship.
"Admiral Yularen," the Jedi's hologram appeared. Dougan, despite being in a dire position—one Lucrehulk and four Munificents against a frankly not-so-strong cruiser—was smiling. "Your task is complete. You can withdraw."
"But, General," Yularen began to object. "We can't leave you outnumbered—"
"The Lucrehulk exploded, sir!" a clone shouted, jabbing a finger at the Trade Federation ship's signature as it came apart.
"What the—?!" the admiral gasped, watching another of the ships engaging the Jedi burst into tiny fragments.
"Withdraw, Admiral," Dougan reminded him. "The Seps will try to take it out on you. Go to defensive posture."
"Yes, sir," the admiral agreed after a fire flared on the port-side bridge of the second Venator. Whatever the Jedi had come up with, it was working. Losing two ships, the Separatists eased pressure on Yularen's vessels, allowing the admiral to turn away.
By the time the last fighters were recovered aboard the Venators, Dougan had reduced two more Munificents to wreckage. Seeing Yularen's ships concentrate fire on the CIS starfighters while gathering their own fighters for rotation, the Separatist commander began shifting his armada toward the planet's north pole. The lone surviving frigate from the group opposing the Jedi broke away, fleeing from the Acclamator's fire. The Jedi cruiser, in truth, didn't even spare it attention, coming in to land on the planet.
Dozens of LAAT gunships ran an unbroken shuttle between the cruiser and the surface, delivering clone units planetside.
"They're drawing all their forces into a fist," the admiral hurried to warn the Jedi about the enemy maneuver.
"Nothing to worry about, Admiral," Dougan assured him. He broke off, glanced somewhere to the side. "Holy hell!... We've been made!" The Jedi's hologram jolted as if enemy fire had hit the cruiser. "Raise shields!"
***
After the droid commander of the last Munificent-class frigate reported to his superiors about the destruction of most of the fleet by Republic action, he received an order to retreat to the planet's northern hemisphere.
"Understood, understood," the droid rattled off. The moment the commander's hologram vanished, R3 whistled, asking what the next orders would be.
"Jam communications," I ordered. "Move to the rendezvous point."
A Munificent-class frigate was used by the InterGalactic Banking Clan to transport valuables. With the start of the war, the ships were repurposed into support forces. It's funny to claim that a little ship armed with a twin heavy turbolaser, a pair of ion cannons, a couple of damned dozen twin turbolaser cannons, two dozen quad turbolaser turrets, and eight point-defense guns could go one-on-one against a Republic Venator. Of course, an Acclamator's fate after meeting a couple of such frigates is a foregone conclusion.
But I didn't have just one Acclamator.
I had to shelve the idea of taking the Katana Fleet for later. Even though the Lethan pleased me in a secret report that the ships were fine and most of them were ready to move to a new location, my inner hoarder had to be held in check. The "dark forces" had waited decades for their hour. They could wait a little longer.
Vizla, Vette, and Atroxa were needed for more urgent matters.
Thanks to the Fury's cloaking system, the enemy's disposition became known to me. That's how the plan for Operation Divide and Conquer was born.
Yularen, with two Venators and three Peltas, fixed one group in battle, while I, Vizla, Vette, and the three commandos slipped aboard one of the Munificents—thanks to skillful piloting of the Fury by the red-skinned Lethan.
R3—whose functionality had been restored to proper levels after servicing on Coruscant—was brought to me by obliging Atroxa, who picked up the astromech on the way. Receiving the name "Bro," the droid shone in a red paint scheme with black contours and readily joined the landing team.
"Ahsoka," I said. To avoid showing the Fury in front of the Jedi younglings, I'd flown with the "Alphas" to the meeting point with the Hands in a Republic shuttle, so the final briefing took place in the hangar. "Stay on the Rhino. And do not set foot off the ship without Captain Krivz's order."
"But I'm a commander," the capricious Togruta wrinkled her nose. "I outrank him!"
"The one who outranks," I said in a lecturing tone, "is the one who can boast experience. And I'd bet my hand—you haven't seen combat yet."
"But—!" the girl began to protest, but I'd already turned my attention to Eon standing nearby.
"Captain, jump into the system on my signal. Not a moment earlier."
"But if you're delayed, Admiral Yularen will be under heavy fire," the Rhino's commander reminded me.
"Then we'll hurry," I shrugged. In truth, Yularen's fate and his ships concerned me the least. Better to think about my own legion than about Kenobi's and Skywalker's ships.
"General," Ahsoka said, eyes almost pleading. "Take—"
"Keep an eye on the kid, Captain," I asked. The Acclamator commander only smiled.
"Well then, aboard, gentlemen," I waved to the "Alphas."
The official version stated that I, the commandos, and R3 would use information I'd gotten from my spies in the CIS to infiltrate one of the CIS reinforcement ships—the very ones that brought troops planetside and hauled away the remaining valuables.
There we would stage sabotage, dock with one of the Munificents, seize it, and use it to attack the other ships. That would sow confusion among the droids and allow us to finish off the battered CIS forces. And my loyal saboteurs would plant baradium bombs aboard the enemy ships, further disorienting the Confederates.
Yularen, Krivz, Ahsoka, and even the "Alphas," after hearing the plan, considered me insane. Well, of course—if I'd been taking paratroopers or "heavies." At least a company. But alone, with three clones and a droid…
No one argued, in the end. For good measure, I said that certain loyal forces would assist us on-site.
"Sir," Alpha touched my shoulder the moment we exited hyperspace. "There's nothing here."
And indeed. We hung in empty space, and our nearest neighbors were only the stars. And galactic emptiness.
"That's what it looks like to you, Alpha." I cut power in the shuttle. Then I switched on the comlink.
"Vizla, do you see us?"
"Clear as day," the Mandalorian snorted. "Dropping cloaking. Docking."
As much as I didn't want to show the Fury in front of the clones, I saw no other chance to break the blockade. Transferring to the Sith interceptor, we departed for the Christoph system.
***
"And what will you do with them when they tell everyone about your invisible ship?" Valkorion said with a smirk.
The ghost made his presence known shortly before we reached the designated point. As usual—without warning; he simply materialized.
"You think I can't handle three clones?" I asked. "I thought you believed in me."
With a grim smirk, the ghost swept his gaze over the motionless troopers in gleaming white armor.
"An army of living servants…" he savored the words, as if tasting them. "One order, and the Jedi will be outside the law. Have you figured out what will serve as the trigger for them?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "The inhibitor chips are present, but obedience to the Contingency Orders is also firmly baked into the training program."
"Well then," the Sith concluded. "Very prudent of him. Does that make the clones useless to us?"
"I don't think so," I said. "They're still a reliable weapon against the CIS."
"Perhaps," Valkorion paused in thought. "But do not underestimate them, and do not let them too close."
"That's why I'm legalizing Vizla, Vette, and Atroxa," I explained. "From now on, my Hands will protect me."
"You still haven't spoken the command phrase," the ghost recalled. "The hope that they'll become loyal to you of their own accord is negligible. Subjugate them." The last sentence was spoken almost like an order.
Which started to irritate me.
"Master," I said as tactfully as possible. "You entrusted me with carrying out your Plan. Trust me in this as well. Otherwise, what kind of ruler of the galaxy am I if I have no will of my own?"
Valkorion looked me up and down, as if a stranger had appeared before him. Then he smiled faintly.
"And I wondered when your self-respect would finally awaken," he said with sarcasm. "The boy is growing out of his short pants." The ghost's brief chuckle nearly enraged me. But seeing his face return to its usual emotionless state, I did everything I could to crush the rising flame within me. "Do not forget they are merely your servants, apprentice."
"I remember that, Master," I said with a short bow.
"Atroxa would not have become garrison commander on Korriban," Valkorion remarked, "if she did not possess the qualities inherent to Sith. Remember that when you let her fall asleep in your bed next time."
"You're suggesting she might kill me?" I asked.
"Any of them would gladly finish you off," Valkorion laughed. "I tortured each of them a thousand times. Broke them, put them back together, and broke them again. I made them loyal servants, and they fear me. But you… You they will happily tear to pieces the moment they can, and I will not be able to protect you," the ghost warned. "You are my legacy. Do not let yourself die meaninglessly again."
With that, the ghost dissolved, and the world began moving again.
***
There were no baradium bombs.
There were no loyalists.
There was only me, three Alpha-class commandos, Vette, Vizla, R3, and Atroxa.
After dropping me and the six members of the team, Atroxa, following my orders, took up an advantageous position near the central section of the Lucrehulk. Avoiding detection, the Sith kept her ship in the space between the Lucrehulk's outer ring and its central spherical body.
The moment the Acclamator arrived, the Lethan launched a proton torpedo into the ship's heart. Thanks to the fact that proton torpedoes are not deterred by deflector shields, three of the four CIS frigates opposing us vanished in the storm of torpedo strikes right after the Trade Federation ship—hit by Atroxa from the side opposite the Rhino's observers.
My group moved the instant the Lucrehulk detonated. After boarding through one of the airlocks, we waited patiently until the commander reported ready and steered the ship toward its own. Plugging the astromech into the comm system and jamming external communications, we advanced from the ship's midsection to the bridge—hosing fire and carving with lightsabers everything that wasn't made of bone and flesh.
Up to 150,000 landing droids were carried aboard the frigate. Fortunately for us, Vette managed to intercept the control signal from the bridge and prevent the activation of the reinforcement droids.
"Is it always going to be this easy?" Alpha asked me, burning through the last droid on the bridge. "We killed over a hundred and took the ship."
Before I could intervene, someone beat me to it.
"There's probably another hundred like that somewhere," the Mandalorian snapped. "Don't go soft, kid—we still have to break out."
"Enough yapping without orders," I cut off the brewing quarrel.
Three clones, their armor blackened from the hot push to the bridge, stared very unfriendly at the tall and lethally dangerous compatriot of their progenitor. Shay, meanwhile, with feigned calm, reloaded blasters and prepared thermal detonators.
"Set a course for the Seps' flagship," I ordered Vette, who was acting as pilot.
"As you say, Commander," the Twi'lek answered simply, her fingers fluttering over the control panel.
"Sir," Baldy pointed at the five Separatist ships. "Maybe we should blow them up with 'baradium bombs' too?"
"We're out," I said regretfully. "The ship can only take four."
"Then maybe we should've taken more ships like this?" Alpha asked as he approached. "They'd be useful to the Republic."
"I'm afraid," I said, "this isn't a Republic ship."
"We should bring them to our side," Alpha insisted. "These 'invisibles' are a serious weapon."
An incoming call from Yularen saved me from having to explain. In the middle of talking to the admiral for the second time that battle, I noticed—unexpectedly—that a pack of Separatist fighters drifting near the surviving five suddenly came alive and rushed toward us.
Swearing, I ordered shields up.
"We've been made!" I stated the obvious. "Prepare the ship for acceleration. Set the guns to automatic fire. Time to get out."
Already sitting in an escape pod and watching the Munificent we had captured fall apart under endless attacks by droid starfighters and the Separatist fleet, I couldn't help regretting that the operation's final round had failed.
The trophy couldn't, like a fire ship, ram the enemy commander's vessel. The minor damage the trophy's reprogrammed guns managed to inflict before destruction was nothing compared to what a Munificent could have done if it had detonated in the center of the enemy formation.
But it is what it is. The important thing is we did our job.
The Venators had battered the enemy detachment quite severely—visible even to the naked eye. Most of the enemy ships bore numerous breach scars and had disabled artillery. Of course, Yularen's ships had also taken it—hard. You couldn't look at them without wanting to cry. Surrounded by gunships, they were taking Kenobi's and Skywalker's forces aboard while, covered by his two bigger brothers, my Acclamator landed fresh blood.
"Are we going to have to fight for this?" Vizla asked with a displeased expression, nodding toward the Crystal City—Christophsis's capital—its buildings riddled with shrapnel and plasma strikes.
"Exactly," I confirmed. Light turbulence on atmospheric entry jostled the capsule where I, my Hands, and R3 were riding. The "Alphas" were evacuating from the ship in a different craft.
"I've seen worse places," Vette admitted good-naturedly.
"My lord," Atroxa said. "Are you all right?"
"Everyone's alive," I confirmed. "Stay in orbit for now. If you see the Seps planning something—report immediately."
"As you command, my lord," the Lethan said obsequiously and cut the link.
"I've never heard her flirt like that before," Vette noted suddenly. "Even with Valkorion she kept more independence. And she doesn't respect Malgus at all…"
"Malgus and the ghost didn't fuck her," the Mandalorian snorted. With a groan, I covered my face with my hand. "The red one bent for the one who gives orders. It's so Twi'lek…"
"I don't get it," Vette said, her voice clearly offended. "You think we're all as easy as Atroxa? No-no-no—she just hasn't had anyone since Korriban…"
For the first time in my life, I regretted that I wasn't deaf.
***
"Looks like reinforcements have arrived," Obi-Wan pointed to the clone units running down the massive ramp of the landed Acclamator.
"Probably," Anakin spread his hands, "our ships came back."
"And that's ammunition and replacements," Obi-Wan noted. "After that droid-saboteur attack, there wasn't much left in the stores…"
Kenobi saw his former student grimace. He blamed himself for the grim consequences of the daring raid by Separatist droid saboteurs in the first week on the planet. The result had been damage to most of their mechanized equipment and the destruction of an ammunition depot.
"Anakin," Kenobi reached out through the Force toward Skywalker, but suddenly noticed a little Togruta girl standing before them in ridiculous white tights.
"Miss?" he asked in surprise. "Who are you?"
"I'm Ahsoka Tano," the girl introduced herself. "Master Yoda sent me to tell you that your help is needed to investigate the incident on Naboo's moon…"
***
For a day, Separatist and Republic ships maintained the status quo. The Seps lacked the strength to knock the Jedi ships off their perch. Yularen's ships were in a similar position. Busy loading Kenobi's and Skywalker's units, they were unlikely to put up serious resistance to Separatists who outnumbered them. Nobody was eager to test it. Everything boiled down to skirmishes by the mosquito fleet.
Despite a couple of scuffles, I made it from the escape pod's landing point to the Republic base in a few hours, together with my companions and the three clones.
By then, Skywalker had already processed the news about the gas attack on the Gungans. And accepted that he'd become Tano's teacher. Which couldn't help adding comedy: a tall man in the company of a skinny girl barely a meter and a half tall.
"I see you made it, Knight Dougan," Kenobi shook my hand. "Glad you're alive."
"And I'm glad too," I looked around. The base—set up in a complex of former government buildings—was being reliably reinforced with a double defensive perimeter, with numerous bunkers. A graveyard of once-combat vehicles took up a significant part of the area set aside for the "motor pool." The Jedi hadn't bothered to clear the debris. "Thanks for sending a gunship to meet us…"
"A gunship?" Kenobi asked, surprised. "But we didn't send anything…"
"Yes, and that's exactly what I'm saying, my dear friend—exactly," cursing the Jedi to myself in every way possible, I trudged toward the room designated as headquarters. Time to take over…
***
Watching the last gunships lift away the remnants of the previous armed contingent, I couldn't help feeling cheated.
In effect, my—put mildly—modest forces were left as the only ones on the planet. Against one and a half million enemy droids—according to Skywalker's and Kenobi's intelligence—my roughly twelve thousand practically unblooded troops…
A war council had to be held, with all three of my Hands included. There was no longer any point in keeping Atroxa in orbit—the enemy had pulled in more than twenty ships. The Fury found a safe refuge in the government hangar, in the far section of the magistrate occupied by our forces.
Christophsis was securely blockaded by the enemy. Unless the Republic pulled in significant forces, it would be rough for all of us. And as for the Republic having enough strength to lift the blockade in the near future—I had serious doubts.
Alpha, Baldy, and Berserker—along with Phob, Dei, and Fan, the commanders of the first three regiments; Rudy, commander of the consolidated fourth regiment; and Mimo, the clone commander of the engineer regiment—were, naturally, also present at the council.
As I've said, the Republic's main base on the planet was the fortified government quarter. The magistrate, thanks to its previous owners, was a massive building about seven stories high, with thick walls and floors. Here the Jedi set up an operations HQ, communications node, barracks, infirmary, and mess. Surrounding the building with heavy walls and observation towers along the perimeter, Skywalker and Kenobi achieved a safe perimeter inside the base, where they built an armory, heavy vehicle lot, ammunition depot… most of it was already rubble—just a little over a week ago, an attack by Separatist droid saboteurs had knocked out most of the heavy equipment.
"They'll crush us," Vizla said promisingly. "Even if these guys," she nodded at the nearest clone, "were made from the greatest Mandalorian ever—we can't handle an army a hundred times larger than ours."
"But we have heavy guns!" Vette protested. "Walkers and—"
"Guns won't hold an entire army," Shay supported Alpha. "If they pile on from all sides, the defense will burst like a soap bubble."
"Neither guns nor walkers nor heavy weapons will save us," Berserker backed his brother.
"We shouldn't have let Generals Skywalker's and Kenobi's units go," Baldy complained. "We'd have been twice as many."
"Done arguing," I snarled at the commandos. "Kenobi's, Skywalker's, and the other Jedi's troops are needed elsewhere. That's an order from command. Besides, most of them are wounded. We already took the remnants of their equipment. Mimo," I addressed the legion's lead engineer. "How much of their stuff do we have left?"
The clone glanced at a datapad.
"Two dozen AT-TE walkers in varying degrees of damage. We managed to restore two to combat readiness. Another three or four are repairable and will return to service. The rest is spare parts and scrap."
"Strip the guns and armor from them," I ordered. "We'll use what we have for defense."
"The defense, in essence, has to be built anew," Rudy spoke up. Bald-headed, with a rancor tattoo on his scalp, he came from the paratrooper battalion. He tried to keep apart from the others. "Sitting behind fortress walls and relying on walls, walkers, and SPHA won't work."
"That's why," I concluded, "you're all here—to discuss our defensive strategy."
"Sir," Fan spoke up. "We were taught the Jedi would plan the war and—"
I sighed heavily.
"Gentlemen," sweeping my gaze over everyone present, I stopped on the third regiment's commander. "As much as I'd like otherwise, I wasn't taught to command an army. The Jedi haven't fought wars in a long time, so I'm asking you to help me. Criticize my ideas and plans, because that's how we'll build the most optimal battle plan and minimize our losses."
Silence was the answer. The clones traded glances. Unheard-of—a general had essentially admitted his own incompetence. I understand what formed in their heads. Like, they recruited generals from an ad.
"All right, kids," Shay said patronizingly. "Later, you can whisper in the barracks."
The Mandalorian brought up a map of the government quarter on the holoprojector like she owned the place.
"By concentrating our forces within a single base," she began, "we're taking a huge risk of losing everything in one successful assault or air strike. Here's what I propose…"
***
Watching the Confederacy army advance—in neat, crisp boxes—I couldn't help noting that someone was about to get hurt.
"'Heavies' are in position," Baldy's voice sounded in the comlink. He was leading that wonderful unit.
"Paratroopers are ready," and that was Berserker with his subordinates.
"Ten minutes," I checked the chronometer. "And we begin."
Four observer teams reported the advance of a large detachment—up to ten thousand B1s alone, supported by a couple dozen AAT tanks.
According to Shay's plan, our forces drove the CIS out of the capital with a single massive strike. In three days of nonstop fighting, the droids lost nearly all their forces in Crystal City, clinging only to a quarter near the city's southern entrance. Studying the prewar map of enemy-held territory, marked with our intelligence notes, I noted with an inward smile that the Seps had placed their headquarters in Christophsis's main library. Just like in the cartoon.
The engineer battalions crawled on their bellies through every house and every platform in the city, mining the approaches to key defensive elements.
Every skyscraper became a strongpoint for snipers or a "heavies" squad armed with everything needed to repel attacks by enemy heavy vehicles, on the ground or in the air. The quality of our defenses had already been tested by several squadrons of droids that attempted to bomb the city. They were still burning in bonfires on the outskirts.
The Separatist commander's next attempt was a mass landing straight on the approaches to the city. Thirty-six SPHA—forming the backbone of both our heavy anti-air and defensive artillery—buried fifty C-9979 landing craft on the city's outskirts, along with their precious cargo.
Both operations cost us a thousand clone lives.
After that, the Separatist ground command quieted down. No, we could see they were building up forces on their beachhead. We couldn't drive them out—the beachhead and the city were separated by several hundred meters of empty highway space, equally deadly for both our advance and theirs. As a result, the enemy amassed strength for an attack. And we were forced to watch.
But behind the visible calm lay a plan. And, at the risk of sounding arrogant, most of it was devised by me.
We—meaning me and the regimental commanders—understood that the moment the enemy commander built up enough strength to break across the highway, our troops would be in trouble. So most of the highway had long since been mined and prepared for remote detonation. And in the buildings nearest the highway—and, in general, across the city—clones had dug in with anti-infantry laser cannons stripped from disabled walkers, turning the capital into a lair of heavy crossfire.
The Separatists began their third attack on Crystal City a month after our arrival. Timely spotted enemy movements gave us time to prepare our units and pull in reserves.
The plan was to let the enemy move its tanks onto the highway, then simultaneously disable them with remote mine detonation and bring down AV-7 fire on the Separatist infantry, along with ambush action by the paratroopers and the "heavies." It was my idea, and, interestingly, the "goodness" of that element was acknowledged not only by the battle-hardened Hands, but also by Fett's descendants.
The third regiment under Fan, supported by a dozen AT-TEs, was holding the droids back from breaking into the city center. Positioned in ruins left by bombardment and fighting, they formed a semicircle in five lines around the street the enemy infantry would have to take. Being out in the open, unlike the other units, they would take the brunt of the infantry hit.
"Enemy forward elements are already engaging Fan's first line," Alpha prompted.
I, my loyal aide Alpha, Vette, and Atroxa watched the invasion from the roof of a skyscraper turned into an observation post. Not particularly tall, the building let us see the attackers like on a palm, given that it stood in their path—at the second defensive line of the third regiment.
"Baldy, what's the situation with the vehicles?" I asked the commando.
"They're firing at the nearest buildings," the clone replied. "Only a few units are on the highway. The infantry has separated from the tanks and is pushing the first line."
"Shit," I swore. Blowing the highway for a couple of AATs was a thankless business. Our guns didn't reach the tanks' position, let alone the tinheads' beachhead. And spending such beauty as a minefield on infantry was a waste…
"Sir," Alpha pulled me from my thoughts. "We have to blow it—otherwise Fan and his men will take huge losses. It's five droids per one of our brothers…"
Mimo, who was responsible for detonating the highway, was right there. Seeing my nod, the engineer triggered the detonator.
Have you ever seen about ten thousand deadly—if brainless—droids launched into the air? Along with hundreds of tons of roadway and explosives, the infantry detachment instantly became road debris, incapable of active operations. Three hundred B1s, suddenly finding themselves surrounded and cut off from their own, were cut down in moments under crossfire.
"A splendid victory," the previously silent Atroxa said. Dressed in a suit with armor elements, the Lethan—like Vette and Shay—passed herself off as a mercenary, keeping her lightsaber hidden from prying eyes.
"Sir, I'm pulling the squads out of the outer buildings," Baldy reported.
"The tanks are taking down buildings one by one," Berserker echoed him. "We need to fall back. I've already lost three groups."
"Pull your people to reserve points," I ordered. Lifting binoculars to my eyes, I saw in detail how a dozen AATs, arranged in three lines, were turning the skyscrapers housing our observation teams into rubble with concentrated fire.
"Smart on their part," Alpha cursed. "They exposed our observation posts and firing points and instantly collapsed our defense in this sector to the second line. Sir," he addressed me. "Permission to hit the tanks with strike fighters?"
"Don't," Vette pointed at the enemy tanks. "Look."
After toppling several nearby buildings, the enemy tanks moved forward, intending to reach effective range against the second defensive line. Judging by the figures of troopers sliding on lines into buildings of the third defensive line, they too had noticed the enemy's undisguised interest in Crystal City's structures.
But no.
Like the wrath of gods, AV-7 energy bolts crashed down on the Separatists' armored war machines, turning them into useless hulks of smoking metal. Landing with precision, they swept the enemy armor off what remained of the roadway.
"Don't thank me," Shay's voice sounded in my ear. A few seconds later, I saw a figure in blue-green armor slip out of a window of one of the miraculously surviving buildings on the first defensive line. Leaving a faint jet trail, "Mandalore the Avenger" headed for the rear. Acting as spotter for the heavy guns, she helped us conserve AV-7 ammunition—which we already had only about a hundred rounds per barrel.
The fight ended. The third battle for Crystal City remained ours.
"Alpha," I called my aide. "Take Baldy and Berserker and go for a walk tonight along the highway," I pointed at the place where the enemy infantry died. "Leave some surprises and trip alarms."
"Yes, General," the clone immediately opened a channel to his commando brothers.
***
With nightfall, life in Crystal City began anew.
Leaving sentries and patrols in position, the main part of the legion went to the barracks.
They had to be divided too. The first and third regiments guarded the Northern and Southern arterials—the main routes into the city where enemy armor could pass. The second performed, in essence, a security function, controlling the city's eastern and western parts. Each had its own mobile base behind its own positions, equipped and maintained by an attached battalion of combat engineers. Still, trudging across half the city to the barracks after a hard day was a special kind of pleasure.
So most of the barracks—as well as the magistrate's rooms—remained unused. The wounded rested here; the medical post and operating room had to stay here too—no sense dragging them to the front. The fourth regiment quartered at the main base, providing its security and cover. The fourth engineer battalion also found shelter here; their shoulders bore the burden of piloting strike fighters and repairing captured and our own weapons damaged in battle. In truth, they were also engaged in scavenging from crashed CIS landing craft.
A strike fighter delivered me and both Twi'leks to the base. I motioned for Vette and Atroxa to follow, and the three of us trudged to the office of one of the planet's former officials, where my refuge had been set up. I needed to assess the day's reports, fall into an uneasy sleep for a few hours, and wake expecting yet another surprise from the droids.
The office, it must be said, was spacious. The oval main room contained two massive leather couches facing each other on either side of the office entrance. On the left was a passage into a room that used to be a bedroom and kitchenette, and now was only rubble after shelling. On the right—oddly enough—was a still-functioning refresher with a shower and a small pool like a jacuzzi. Opposite the entrance stood a massive semicircular console table where correspondence still remained between Christophsis's government and the CIS about joining the latter. I'd long since copied it to my datapad. Once we got back on comms with the Republic, I'd pass it up the chain. Let their heads ache over catching those bastards.
I had more important matters—finding a way to hold out longer.
The fact that the CIS ships didn't dare subject us to total orbital bombardment wasn't enemy nobility. The planet's government simply hadn't managed to ship out all its accumulated treasures—we found more than a dozen caches of precious metals in the city, worth around a hundred million credits. You'll say that's a trifle compared to the CIS budget? I'll agree. But it wasn't the CIS that had its eyes on that wealth; it was, very specifically, the ground forces commander.
Back to today's battle.
Compared to previous attacks, this one had at least the appearance of being thought out. The droids consciously minimized their losses in heavy vehicles, forcing us to trade against the notorious B1s. From a purely economic point of view—an excellent choice. Comparing the price of a B1 and an AAT, you understand why the CIS preferred to drown us in droids—into which they poured so many of their already limited resources—rather than tanks.
"Phob took out a couple of AAT tanks today," Vette concluded after reviewing the first regiment's reports. "No losses on our side, but we had to abandon two buildings—the enemy damaged them heavily."
"Dei has a similar situation," Atroxa noted. "Except that Octuptarra droids were operating in the eastern sector. Jet troopers," as the legion called the battalion of clones with jetpacks—Shay's favorites, "shot five of them with launchers. Lost three."
I myself was reading the third and fourth regiments' report. Two hundred clones had vanished like a cow's tongue had licked them away.
"So we've lost half a regiment," I said, sitting in a massive couch-chair upholstered in soft leather. Like its couch brothers from the set, it easily unfolded into a convenient bed—something I shamelessly used. "And that's only a month of fighting."
Both Twi'leks stared at me, waiting for the rest of the sentence. But I was silent. Turning my back to the Twi'leks sitting opposite each other on the couches, I stared into the planet's nearly cloudless atmosphere.
"My lord," the Lethan rose and approached me. "What are you thinking about?"
"Even knowing they—the clones—are only a tool," I said, "I still can't get used to their deaths. The Force reflects it… You know."
The Sith Lady smirked. Placing her thin but muscular fingers against my temples, she began making circular motions. I felt subtle, relaxing waves of the Force flow into my body.
"Let those deaths feed you, my lord," she whispered. "Taste another's pain, fear, terror. Absorb them…" "Yes, master," the Lethan praised me, sensing how I, involuntarily—almost hypnotized by her words—cast out nets of the Force, drawing in the remnants of bitterness, disappointment, and the sense of death that hung over the city. "Continue…"
Pulling the entire arsenal of negative emotions into myself, I felt the dark side inflame the smoldering ember of rage in me. Molten metal flowed through my veins, saturating my body with power and boiling energy. My muscles heated, turning into taut cords… all of them.
"Stop," I felt Atroxa's hand slide across my torso, unclasping fasteners. "I don't want to."
Stunned by the sharpness of the response, Atroxa watched as Valkorion's apprentice rose abruptly from the chair, severing the forming connection.
"You're dismissed," Dougan grunted, heading for the refresher.
Watching the door close behind her lord, Atroxa looked, perplexed, at the silent Vette.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" the Sith Lady frowned, returning to the companion who had also risen from the couch, preparing to leave.
"What, you don't like being refused?" the blue-skinned Twi'lek giggled. Seeing the Lethan's gaze turn instantly harsh, the girl patted her thigh where a blaster pistol sat in its holster. Touching it, she seemed to draw confidence. "Maybe he doesn't like you anymore."
"Why would that be?" the Sith asked, licking her lips with a quick long tongue, as if casually running her hands over her thighs.
"Maybe he wants something new," Vette shrugged. Hearing the shower start behind the wall, she shifted her gaze to the leader of the Sith armies, who looked lustfully in the same direction. "Or someone…"
The Sith Lady looked at her companion with a gaze full of interest. In Vette's eyes—golden like heated metal—Vette saw sparks of passion and lust.
"Well, if that's what you think…" Darth Atroxa said with obvious intent, running her hand along the Twi'lek's delicate cheek…
***
A C H T U N G !!! Seggs content!
This chapter originally contained an 18+ scene in the end, but I've removed it since I'm not a fan of that kind of content.
If you'd like to read the uncut version, you can find it on my Patreon in the free post: Star Wars: The Ends Justify the Means — Vol. 1 — Ch. 11 — 18+ scene