The Weaving Force: Chapter 152

Chapter 152:

Trench

It was… an odd thing. Almost alien truth be told. It felt… wrong.

And yet for all its wrongness, for all its queerness… he could not help the reality that affected him in this moment.

And that was, the simple fact that this battle, this orbital engagement above the world felt… almost like an afterthought. And as much as he tried to focus his mind and pay attention to it, as much as he tried to excise the calamity occurring just a few thousand kilometers below, he couldn’t.

Corruscant, a planet that had endured across countless Millenia, for all intents and purposes the cradle of the Galactic Core… was burning.

Every instrument read titanic shifts across the entire biome. Atmospheric disturbances, groundquakes, tectonic rifts, whole sections of the ecumenopolis city crumbled, collapsing in on themselves, billions of people were dying with every passing second. 

It was as though he could hear their screams.

His clawed talons hesitated, hovering over the console, before he gave in the command codes himself. 

He did not need to wait long for the hail to be answered.

“Master Tinn.” Trench called to the grim visage of the Iktochi Jedi Master. 

“Admiral.” The Jedi answered.

His expression was guard, Trench couldn’t blame him for such, not under these circumstances. 

“Time is short, so I will keep it short, Master Jedi.” Trench said, nodding. “Given this rather… unexpected situation developing on Coruscant I am willing to agree to a temporary cessation of hostilities between our forces.”

The Jedi Master’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re saying… you had nothing to do with what’s occurring.”

Trench scoffed. “Whatever you might think of me, Jedi; I am not such a monster that I’d condemn countless trillions to their deaths upon that world, all to win a fleet engagement I’d have won in due course regardless.”

The Jedi Master didn’t answer for a moment, no doubt his gaze trailing to his own instruments reading out the devastation below; weighing his options. 

“Grievous is reported to be here.” He finally said. “Do you have the authority to order this ceasefire?”

“Grievous-” Trench drawled. “Is on that planet. Until I have confirmed otherwise, I must assume that command falls to me. And this is my will.” He straightened, though no doubt his full imposing height was somewhat lost in a holo screen. “ I am commanding all vessels to power down weapons… and what few medical supplies I hold in a fleet full of droids will be at your disposal… should you wish to make use of them.”

The Jedi Master frowned, but the lines of his face were carved deep, he was no expert on Iktochi expressions, but he believed Grief striken might be an apt word for it.

“I… thank you for your consideration…Our own fleets shall power down all weapons and we will begin” The man swallowed and the next words, chosen so deliberately spoke to the extent of the disaster he expected to find down there. “Recovery operations”

Trench did not know it, not at that moment. But this is the moment that histories would declare the formal end of the conflict known as the Clone Wars.

—

Commander Fox

‘This… is Coruscant?’

The question was a horrified whisper in his mind. He and Thire had both been on the fleet above world, and he’d volunteered to take command of the first wave of rescue efforts now being launched.

He knew there’d be damage, from above, the whole planet seemed like it had been put to the torch. Great black pillars of smoke rose up into the stratosphere like impossibly tall towers. The red glow of embers shining just beneath, crisscrossed the world like veins in a mine as they looked down from on high.

But as bad as he knew it must’ve been. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met him as they finally breached the blanket of smog and smoke. 

The city was a nightmare.

Fires still burned along the high spires, entire buildings had collapsed into rubble, others looked almost melted on their surface. Corpses lined the streets, ash had begun to fall like off color snow and the rumbling sky overhead told him that a great and terrible rainstorm was being created by whatever was left of the atmospheric manipulators.Insects swarmed through the air like schools of fish circling overhead, creating a constant buzzing. 

But, worst, most alien of all…

Was how dark it was.

Nowhere, not as far as his eye could see, was there even a spec of light on this world. 

It felt like he and his men were descending into a ghostly, haunted underworld. 

“Sir… This is-”

“I know.” He interrupted his trooper. Whatever his man wanted to say, Fox was feeling it too, and he didn’t need it spreading any further than it already naturally would be. “Keep it steady. The Rally point is the Jedi temple.”

The pilot nodded, and they flew in silence.

Minutes later, as they began their final approach, the pilot spoke up. “Sir, flares and smoke!”

Fox peered through the front windows of the LAAT, sure enough red smoke and green flares were spread through the shattered and ruined courtyard. 

Emergency tents were being set up, a field of injured and dead men were being sorted into respective areas.

And beyond…

The Jedi temple.

A shattered, blasted ruin; folded in on itself like a house of cards brought tumbling down. Its tower lay broken, snapped like a match stick, its gleaming four corner spires, pointing askew in every direction where he could see them. 

“Set us down, as close and safe as you can.”

“Aye sir.”

The gunship began to descend. There were two combat ready troopers on his squad, almost as a formality, the rest were certified rescue and medical troopers.

He began receiving pings in his helmet’s HUD, dozens of other nearby signatures finding landing zones.

He acknowledged with an answering ping of his own, and then the gunship doors slid open. 

His boots hit the ground, his men following a second later before they began to march towards the medical camp.

They were greeted by a cordon of Legionaire troopers. 

“Commander Fox.” The squad leader spoke, and Fox almost felt his skin prickle. There was something in the legionaire brother’s voice. The man seemed to look past him. “We heard the 707th, 501rst and 221th were inbound.”

Fox felt himself raising an eyebrow  “They are.” he decided to answer. “We were faster on the deployment. They’re simply slightly behind us.”

For a long moment that seemed unduly tense in the gloom of the ashen fall and the dark overcast, the Squad leader stared at Fox.

Then, just as Fox was getting ready to speak- the brother spoke instead. 

‘Windu’s alive.’ Fox felt some relief at that. That some stability had been retained in the command structure through all of this. 

“I have orders from General Windu to let you through.” He finally declared, and Fox realized the man had been speaking privately beneath his helmet for that confirmation. 

The Squad leader stepped aside, making a very pointed ‘opening’ in the wall of unmoving soldiers. He pointed. “Large tent is HQ and med center for now. You’ll find General Windu there.”

Fox nodded, stepping through the line of men, his own squad following him.

He glanced around the beginnings of this impromptu camp, most that he could see amidst the rubble and cratered landscape were white armored bodies. Setting up more living areas, sorting medical and emergency equipment, trying to set up more stable communication equipment that could cut through the atmospheric interference. 

Few, far far too few… were Jedi. 

As he approached the tent he’d been pointed towards, Fox could hear the hustle of activity within. Med troopers calling for specific medications, barking orders to those helping them, a few grunts and screams of pain. He braced himself for what he would see inside.

Even so, the sight that greeted him wasn’t a pretty one. 

Quickly, he scanned the room, ordering his medical crew to move about assisting, and the rescue crews to “unpack” the portable medical assistant droids they’d brought with them. Every Venator had at least ten of those machines, each one would be committing eight. Acclamators had six, they’d be committing five, and so on, down the line of ships. Even with hundreds of experienced medical staff brought in in that form, Fox could only believe it’d be a drop in the bucket of what was needed, going by the sheer devastation visible to just the naked eye. 

He spotted Windu by a far console, no doubt beginning a plan to coordinate rescue efforts in and around the city, the temple and the Rotunda. 

Beside him there were three other Jedi Masters Fox could see, Shaak Ti, and a man named Daith, if Fox’s memory served. 

He began to march over, but then, a sparkle of silver caught his eye along the periphery.

Turning his head, Fox, genuinely had to do an almost immediate double take, staring with mounting horror and disbelief at what he was seeing.

General Dallon. 

General Dallon was laying there, on the medical bed, looking for all the world like death warmed over. Tubes sticking out of her, skin sallow, clothes covered in blood. One of her Silver Wing guard stood watch at her bedside. 

It… it was an impossible sight. A terrifying sight.

Immediately, he cut his external helmet speakers. “Vit.” He called one of his medics, one of the Guards best, truth be told.

“Aye sir?”

“That’s General Dallon.” He told the man, seeing his own gaze turning towards her, and the sharp stiffening intake of breath telling him he was just as surprised. “Check on her. Until I say otherwise, she’s your top priority” He demanded. “You make sure she lives.”

“Aye sir.” Grabbing hold of his kit, the trooper began to make ready as Fox made his way over towards General Windu.

Reaching the edge of the ‘Command’ area, Fox snapped a sharp salute. “Sir. CC-1010, Commander Fox, reporting for command sir. Tell me where my men are needed.”

Master Windu turned his head, looking at him, before offering a nod, though his frown turned more severe. “Your men are needed… everywhere.” He shrugged. He wasn’t joking. 

“Planetary power stations are down, communication network, also down. Our fleets have their own transceivers and buoys so we’re still able to get around that issue using military frequencies, but as of now, we have no contact with planetary police, search and rescue, hospitals, shelters…” He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ve sent out a call for immediate aid from neighboring systems. They’ll be here within the hour.”

Along with fleets in case the separatists decide to go back on their word’ Fox thought.

Before he could say more however, there was a sudden shout.

“You take one more step I’ll blow your fucking head off you Guard bastard!”

Fox whirled around, staring wide eyed at General Dallon’s Silver Wing Guard pointing a blaster rifle straight at Vit’s head!

Immediately there was a flurry of activity, men are shouting, some are looking around, startled into drawing weapons themselves as they look for the source of the commotion. 

“Put the weapon down”

“Trooper desist”

“Stand do-”

Orders are being barked a dozen voices raised up adding to the clamor of men in pain and medics trying to work-

But its not until one of the members of the 707th comes over, gently laying his hand on his brothers forearm, lowering the weapon that the tension dissipates.

Fox is almost too far to hear.

But he does hear it. 

"Put it down… he couldn’t help it before. It's over now. Put it down brother.”

The Silver-Wing guard was tense like a coiled spring, his body almost visibly shaking beneath the armor. 

But still, he did, in the end, lower the rifle. 

And Fox realized all of sudden, the tension he’d felt in the air, from the troopers he’d met at the perimeter.

They see us as enemies.

The back of his neck itched near the place where he knew all clone surgical scars were to remove the chips. A scar he didn’t have.

The last few hours… Thinking on them… they felt… strange. Like he was staring at a holo film. 

There was no… feeling, no person in those memories. 

Like he was simply a passenger walking in his own flesh.

They felt distant. Detached. Cold.

Like a dream, only somehow perfectly clear.

But for the legionares… for the unchipped clones.

Those last few hours; were very very real…

It churned in his stomach. Twisted something vile and putrescent within that made him feel genuinely ill. 

It wasn’t just that they saw him and his Coruscant guard as enemies.

No. If it was just that… he could deal with that. Accept that.

No. 

No… they didn’t just see them as enemies. 

They see us as droids.

—

Saesee Tiin

“Is this accurate!” Saese Tiin’s voice was a near broken whisper sitting by the command dais of his flagship. He couldn’t even look at the Clone commander at the other end of the screen. 

“Aye sir.” The man said “I double checked with Medical, before I even called you.”

“I understand.” He said numbly. “Keep it… keep it quiet for now, No one else is to know if at all possible. Trench is still in the system. And for all his show of mercy we do not need to understand the full extent of his advantage.”

“Understood General, it’ll be done.”

The trooper winked out.

‘You too… old friend?’ Tiin thought, a creeping despair clawing at his insides.

In truth, he’d felt it when it happened. Master Rancisis had pushed himself, farther than ever before, beyond what anyone could have. Pushed his battle meditation to give them every possible moment of advantage.

And now… like so many others… he was dead too.

His body ceasing to function as it simply… gave out under the strain. Perhaps the feedback of all the death around them.

Jedi should not grieve. Should not feel attatched but…

So much death.

It was a toxin in the air. He inhaled it, and felt it pooling in his lungs. Weighing him down, crushing his heart beneath its weight, spreading through his insides until he was all but drowning in the wallowing misery. 

He’d organized every last possible trooper and gunship available to his and the Corusacnt Guard fleet to descend on the planet to provide relief and rescue efforts.

A part of him wished to say that he remained here, because he needed to keep his eye on the fleet, both his own, the Guard, and Trench’s separatist forces still in system. And that was true.

But another part of him knew the truth. Knew that even if he had the option… he couldn’t take it. Not yet. Same as so many other Jedi still on the fleet.

They could not go down there.

They could not descend down into that world yet. That nightmare. And see the ruin of all they’d once held dear. To confirm for themselves the mounds and streets lined with corpses of their own.

To confirm with their own eyes that the Jedi… had well and truly failed. 

“Sir” One of his commsmen called. “New Signatures sir. “

Tiin narrowed his eyes, concern making him tense. “Our call to neighboring systems only just got out, they couldn’t have arrived by now.”

He looked to the long range scanners, just as several dozen ships translated out of hyperspace along the Galactic North. 

“They’re hailing us sir.”

“Put them through.”

A moment later, the main holoscreen bloomed to life. 

In spite of himself, Master Tiin felt the cold wash of relief suffuse his entire body, the tension bleeding out of him. “Master Fay.”

The ancient Sephi looked at him with a kindness and sorrow that made the Iktochi council member almost tear up like a youngling. He didn’t know what he felt under her gaze. Relief that she was here to take command. Shame at his own cowardice. At the fact that he’d survived. Dismay at the realization that she too must have sensed Yoda’s passing and that most horrid of failures must’ve called her here. 

“Master Tiin.” Her voice was filled with a kindness he didn’t deserve. “I sensed the shadow of the Darkside. I foresaw that much aid would be needed here. So we’ve come.”

“We?” He asked. 

“Mandalore.” She answered. “The Jedi of its Enclave, and its people are yours. Kashyyyk is not far behind us 

Tiin didn’t know, or that is to say… he couldn’t truly understand how she would have known to come here once the battle was over, or even that she might’ve known it would resolve their way at all, but he wouldn’t question it. Wouldn’t look at this gift with anything less than gratitude. “I… Thank you.” He said, closing his eyes. “Master Fay… it shames me to ask but might you.”

“Don’t worry.” Her voice never lost its kindness. Showing nothing of the disappointment Tiin felt within himself for even having the gall to ask.

He was a member of the Jedi High council. 

He should be better than this. 

But even so… she continued. “With your permission, I will take full control of organizing rescue and aid operations across Coruscant.”

With his permission. Nevermind that he’d all but begged her to do so. 

“Permission granted.” He said. “My fleet assets, if functional and available, will be at your disposal.”

“Likewise Master Tiin.” The Sephi took a breath, quietly gathering her strength and courage for the task ahead. 

When she opened her eyes, Tiin saw a tiny shadow of her usual plain smile back on her face. “Let us go save our friends.”

(X)(X)(X)

Hello friends :D

So, slight "change of plans"

As you no doubt read in the last few chapters I'd been saying that there were 2 chapters left.

But as I sat down and started writing the "penultimate" chapter it felt very... abrupt. Very clunky and jarring and it wasn't really "working".

Kinda like... you guys remember LotR, like imagine if after Gollum falls into the crack of Doom it all faded to white and the next scene was Frodo waking up with Merry and Pippin and everyone crowding around his bed. THAT's kinda how abrupt and jarring it felt.

So I did some brain storming and realized that I needed to actually show some of the nitty gritty of the actual 'rescue' and aftermath rather than just immediately skipping over it. Keeping with the LotR analogy, we needed to show Sam and Frodo escaping Mt. Doom's eruption and getting picked up by the Eagles

This shouldn't be very long, no more than one or two more chapters at the absolute most before we're "done" and we can get to the final epilogue.

So I hope you have a little bit more patience with me. We're getting there. :)