KeiransFuturismFantasy

The Force Wills - Chapter 97

My hologram appeared in the center of the Jedi high council chamber.

Awareness of the space blossomed through the Force into my mind quickly; it was second nature by now.

It was a bright sunny day on Coruscant with hardly any cloud cover around the Jedi Temple, a welcome contrast to Umbara’s constant night. The sunlight streamed through the curved ceiling windows in a manner that made me long for just a canvas, pencil and paint, just so I could capture the image and feeling in some permanent manner. Grief, how long had it been since I had indulged in that hobby? If I had to ask the question, then I knew the answer. I had always been just too busy to justify it, with my own studies and practice in the Jedi arts.

I wished I could be there in person just to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin.

Anakin’s holo appeared beside me and I took in the Jedi Council, who were there in person and virtually as holograms.

Naturally, Master Yoda was in his customary seat, with Mace Windu next to him. Kenobi, Tiin and Master Plo Koon also appeared in their seats as holos, whilst Mundi and Piell were there in person. Kit Fisto was a holo and he floated above his seat as he was overseeing Republic rebuilding efforts on Mon Cala. The rest were there in person and it didn’t take a Force sensitive to tell that the mood in the room was tense. I could pick up all sorts of non-verbal communication going on between those who were there in person, including outright thought projection but Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor.

It made an almost gentle tapping sound, but it might as well have been the gong of a giant church bell with the authority it carried. 

“Called to order, this council is,” Yoda declared. Silence fell in the Force. “Master Kenobi, your report on the situation on Umbara? Hmmm?”

“We have taken the government complex and the royal caste is in custody. There are still sporadic insurgent attacks throughout the city, but they’re reducing in number. I’m still in negotiation with the royals for them to declare a general surrender.”

“What’s the delay?” Mace Windu asked.

“Stubbornness and the faction within the royal caste that wanted secession from the Republic are unfortunately in the majority.”

It was a strange quirk of the Umbaran system that there wasn’t a ‘king’ or similar executive leader. The royal caste were essentially the UK’s ‘House of Lords’ with an actual body count, to use the closest old Earth analogy. There was a council that was elected from the caste and they got there by playing a cutthroat game of spying, assassination and subterfuge.

“Did they give any other reason for why they wanted to secede? Was Deechi the only thing keeping them in the Republic?” Mundi asked.

“He was the swing vote on the Rootai council, it seems,” Obi-Wan answered. “His replacement was all for Umbaran independence and so a vote was held. There is a considerable underlying sentiment that I’ve sensed among the Rootai. They thought the Republic, with the demands of the war ever increasing, would begin to put pressure on them to release their technology for use by the GAR, even putting umbarans on combat warships.”

“Ridiculous,” Mundi scoffed.

“Quite so, yet when they jumped into bed with the Separatists they were perfectly willing to share that technology the other way,” Obi-Wan agreed. “Now, one way or another, it will invariably come into the Republic’s possession anyway.”

“They still hold out hope that the Umbaran militia can rescue them,” Master Tiin declared. “They refuse to believe that Knight Skywalker and the 501st defeated the last organized remnants yesterday.”

“What about the rest of the planet? Are we sure there’s no hidden militia formation in another city?” Windu asked.

“We’re as sure as we can be,” Kenobi nodded. “The Umbaran defense strategy was always to use superior technology in orbit and the air to prevent any landing. What ground forces they have was always clustered around the capital and this is confirmed by my own interview with the Umbaran loyalists among the Rootai. Their population isn’t large enough to support more than what they had to fight us with.”

“What is the opinion of the Umbaran general public?” Master Adi Gallia asked. “Will there be a resistance movement that will soon contest the GAR?”

“It will depend on how heavily we invest our troops here. If we limit ourselves to the capital then, to the average umbaran, we are here simply to keep them out of the Separatists. If we present that our quarrel is not with them but rather the royal caste, then things should be relatively peaceful except for extremist elements,” Obi-Wan explained.

I saw Yoda and Windu looking at each other briefly.

“Very well,” Windu leaned back in his chair, tenting his fingers. “We will bring this recommendation to the chancellor; the 212th Legion will be designated as the security force for the Umbaran system, with at least one Venator backing them up from space.”

It went unsaid that this was Yoda’s way of making it up to the men of the 212th for having to put up with Krell for so long.

“To the matter of former master Krell, we turn now,” the grandmaster said sternly.

Yoda’s words might as well have been a slap on the council member’s various hearing organs.

Mundi turned his head to Yoda, “Master, are you sure you wish to strip a master of his title with no formal hearing on the matter?”

“Get his formal hearing he will. To decide the manner of his punishment only. All the preliminary evidence, you have seen. Of Knight Skywalker and Padawan Tano, their testimony. Heard the words of former master Krell, himself. Only in retrospect, do I see, mistake his promotion was.”

That Krell could become a master so rapidly was quite surprising to me. You’d think with the prejudices of some senior Jedi of the last decade, especially when Darth Maul made his debut with a saber staff, that it would shut the besalisk out of gaining that rank.

Yoda had perhaps done it especially because of those prejudices. Making Krell his comment against those who would deny someone with talent a position they deserved.

It was unfortunate that those masters would now see themselves as vindicated.

I made a mental note to see if I could question Professor Huyang on the construction of those big sabers, from when Krell was a padawan. 

“Are we sure that… former master Krell,” Adi Gallia said awkwardly, “truly fell so long ago? Are we so distracted by this war, that we can’t even tell when one among us gives in to the Dark Side?”

“He was very careful to hide it,” Windu pointed out reasonably. “The scrutiny it would’ve taken for us to sense it at all, would’ve been an unacceptable invasion of privacy in any other circumstance, Master Gallia.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, though I could tell she wasn’t happy. I didn’t blame her really. It was sentient nature to form cliques and the masters had their own understated version of it. Was she perhaps something of a friend or acquaintance of Krell? Was she now feeling guilty that she hadn’t been there for him? To warn him off from his path or be a sympathetic ear for him to confide his worries to?

“Knight Skywalker, what is Krell’s status now?” Master Piell enquired gruffly.

“Awake, not saying a word, recovering from his wounds and safely ensconced in a cask, with 501st ARC troopers and Mandalorian Blades guarding him round the clock. Still awaiting transport back to the Resolute.”

“I can supervise that, given how busy Master Kenobi is with the Umbarans,” Tiin volunteered.

“Do so,” commanded Yoda. “Mandalorians and the 501st, return with Resolute, they will. Former master Krell is to appear before us, no interference.” 

Anakin, Tiin and I bowed in understanding and acknowledgment of the grandmaster’s order.

“To me of this holo droid you used, speak, Padawan Tano.”

I bowed again, understanding the question. “It is a development of a MandalMotors subsidiary.”

“Of which, you are on the board,” Mundi stated dryly.

“Correct, Master. I gave them some ideas I’ve had on the use of holographics that they found intriguing enough to run with and I assisted their engineers personally on the occasion of my visits to Mandalore. The holo droid proxy, as their official designation names them, allows the user to technically visit any planet with sufficient Holonet or high bandwidth mobile transmission infrastructure. No need for days spent in hyperspace on boring or even unsafe journeys through the dangerous hyperlanes.”

“But which allowed you to infiltrate the ranks of the 501st,” Windu stated. “Then using your skills in Remote Alter, which now Knight Skywalker has as well, you were in a perfect position to intervene when Krell began his rampage. Remarkably fortuitous.”

“Is there a question there, Master Windu?” I asked with a slight smile.

His lips thinned, “How did you know to use the proxy droid? What prompted you to send it?”

“I make a habit to study everyone who fights against me and alongside me,” I answered the dangerous question smoothly without skipping a beat. “Naturally, since this was the first time I encountered former master Krell, I made a point of it by thoroughly scrutinizing the tactics he’s used in the war so far with the 212th. I was not impressed.”

Mundi forgot himself and actually scoffed aloud when I stated my opinion. Yoda and even Windu, gave the cerean Jedi Master harsh remonstrating looks.

“Continue,” invited Windu.

“Every single battle he fought was so simple that a tactical droid could’ve been used and it would’ve achieved better results,” I said bluntly. “Always he just drove his men into constant frontal attacks, increasing the dead and injured by orders of magnitude that was totally unnecessary. Whether by happenstance, fate or the Force, this never resulted in a defeat. This meant that the GAR high command was naturally inclined to ask less questions when the butcher’s bill reached their desks.”

The fact that the ‘high command’ included Yoda, Windu and Rancisis, the latter who was actually in the council meeting today, rang through the minds of everyone present, including my own implied criticism.

Master Rancisis didn’t react at all. The old thisspiasian, who looked like he was completely made up of hair like a wookiee, except much shorter, simply stared at me and I wished I had an idea what was going on in that wizened head. Windu clearly didn’t approve and his eyes grew slightly lidded. Mundi puffed his chest, clearly working up a head of steam to lay into me.

Yoda stopped it by raising a single gnarled finger from his hand resting on the gimer stick in his lap.

“So when Master Skywalker and myself,” I continued, “were ordered by this council to return to Coruscant in the middle of an ongoing battle and I heard that Krell was taking over command of the 501st whilst staying on as commander 212th, I knew immediately that it was inviting disaster. Put simply I didn’t trust that Krell wouldn’t drive the 501st into the first meat grinder he could find. Therefore, I deployed the holo droid proxy, which we could control whilst our ship made its way to Coruscant. We could follow our orders to return and keep an eye on the 501st at the same time.”

“Padawan Tano,” Master Gallia prompted. “How easy is it to learn to use this proxy droid?”

“Relatively easy, it has a manual,” I said, my mouth twitching with a suppressed smile. “It’s more a matter of acclimatization, as Master Skywalker can testify. Your mind has to get used to the idea that the proxy actually is your body now. Testing on Mandalore has found that some people can either quickly get used to it and others not at all. It’s also recommended that there is always someone who watches over every proxy user and can act as a supplementary controller in managing the interface systems.”

“I see, and you both can use the Force through the proxy, how taxing is it?”

I gave Anakin a look.

He cleared his throat and said, “It certainly helped that my own lightsaber was being used by the proxy when I fought Krell, Master Gallia. Otherwise, it really depends on how trained you are in Remote Alter.”

Good, Anakin didn’t forget we were also putting on a performance for the enemy.

“That is amazing news,” she enthused. “Think what it could do for response times for Jedi in the Core, Mid-rim and Expansion regions. We’d also not have to worry about Jedi being killed when they go out into dangerous situations-”

Windu held up his hands, “It is too early to speak of this, Master Gallia.”

Master Kit Fisto’s numerous lekku lazily wove around in the holographic water as he shook his head, “While I can certainly see the practical advantages of that, it does feel… rather hollow. Knowing that you are safe in a fight or any situation, no matter the circumstance, changes the way you approach things and make decisions.”

“Agree, I do. Master Windu, correct he is on this matter. Discussion for later,” Yoda nipped things in the bud. “Speak we will, of Krell’s foresight. What led him down the dark path, this is. Knight Skywalker, Padawan Tano, sense any deception did you, hmm?”

Anakin met my eyes briefly and then we stared stoically forward.  

“None, Master Yoda,” he answered. “He believed his vision wholeheartedly. There was no reservation or uncertainty. He saw the Jedi defeated in this war and the Republic will be, quote, ‘ripped apart from the inside.’ He even wanted to join Dooku after the battle of Umbara.”

The council fell into silence, communicating at each other in silence before they turned to await the final word from Yoda.

“See I do,” he eventually said. “Very well, meditate on these words, we will. Already invalid, perhaps his vision is.” He nodded at Windu.

“Knight Skywalker, when you arrive on Coruscant your ship has been given clearance to dock directly to the Senate. The chancellor wishes to deliver the reason for your recall in person, there is an element of urgency to this, so please avoid any potential delays as best as possible.”

“Understood, Master.”

“Safe journey, may the Force be with you both.”

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Four days of travel passed in hyperspace and both Anakin and I made turns to connect back to the holo droid on Umbara to deal with the nitty gritty post-battle issues that always occurred after a major campaign.

Despite Master Tiin being there, Anakin also supervised the transfer of Krell’s cask to the Resolute and he had to deal with the logistics of getting the 501st back on board.

It was all busy work to distract us from the worry of meeting Palpatine.

No matter how hard I tried, my prescience once again terminated within the Shroud. My training with Bendu in Mortis hadn’t really helped deal with it and even the Celestial himself was doubtful that even he could pierce it, at least until the Sith Shrine was dealt with in a decisive fashion.

He had also been very helpful in explaining the very complex yet somehow simple mechanics behind the Shroud. The thing was being fed from every negative or dark emotion felt by every sentient on Coruscant. Every time a death happened it also served to fuel the blasted thing.

That the ancient Sith had even been capable of such a ritualistic working of the Force was rather mind boggling. Even Palpatine, for all his knowledge and power, had still only done the equivalent of a slight ‘metaphysical rewiring’ of the Shrine and flicked the switch.

The instant we emerged from hyper, we both got our game faces on.

Anakin looked cocky and even slightly eager to meet the chancellor, whilst I stayed neutral and slightly nervous at the thought of once again meeting the leader of the Republic.

When the Omen entered the atmosphere, Anakin smiled at me, his movements on the ship controls were assured and confident, even as we moved into a high priority lane which would take us directly to the Senate district, “Relax, Snips.”

“It might be just another meeting and day for you, Skyguy. This is still our boss we are going to meet.”

“True, but he’s been a good friend and mentor to me. He can be yours as well.”

Behind my many masks, I was shuddering at the very thought.

“And what will he teach, politics?”

“Well, that’s not exactly one of my favorite topics. No, he’s quite a history expert and his wisdom about life in general, especially when I was struggling as a teen, had been very helpful to me. Don’t be afraid to ask him anything, Snips. Of course, be respectful about it.”

"I’m more interested in why he asked for us. He had to use quite a lot of political capital with the Jedi to make it happen.”

“Worrying or speculating will not help us at all, Snips.”

I had to wonder if we were hamming it up a bit too much. Palpatine had to have more pressing concerns on his mind than using farsight to spy on us now, but we couldn’t take that chance.

The Omen just about fit into the northern docking bays of the Senate building itself, so there was no need to use the many floating platforms that larger ships had to use.

For the occasion, Anakin was in a more comfortable Jedi half-armor/robes combination, whilst I fell back to my Hapan outfit with a Jedi robe loosely worn over it.

I was very tempted to go full beskar plated Aegis including my new Mando helmet, but I didn’t want to give the Senate Guard any excuse to possibly delay us.

We were met outside the ship’s embarkation ramp by two Senate commandos in their characteristic blue armor.

“General Skywalker, Commander Tano,” the more senior commando said neutrally. “Welcome to the Senate. If you’ll follow me.”

“We know the way, Captain.”

“You may, but with the recent security lapses, a new system has been installed that monitors the exact location of lifesigns, including assigning an identity to it that the system keeps track of.” The commando reached into a pouch on his belt and handed us two small discs that were clearly designed to hook onto clothing.

I rolled it around in my hand, evaluating it with technometry briefly; nothing untoward, explosive, chemical, biological or even nanotech. It was the Coruscan version of RFID. I shrugged and pinned it to my outer robe. Anakin did the same.

“As you are both Jedi, you may keep your lightsabers. I ask that you don’t draw them, unless an emergency arises.”

Anakin was using my own left hand saber at the moment, whilst I made do with the Darksaber and my right hand saber. He bowed patiently, “Lead the way, captain.”

It was a much longer walk through expansive hallways and large turbolifts, including going through three more security checks before we were standing in the reception room to the chancellor’s primary office.

As it was just after midday and the chancellor was undoubtedly having his lunch, we had to wait for roughly forty minutes before we were allowed to walk in. Doubtlessly some schedule rearranging had happened behind the scenes to account for our arrival, as the secretary only had a general time of our arrival.

“Ah, Anakin and Ahsoka,” Palpatine said genially, stretching out his arms in welcome and standing up from behind his official desk. “Welcome back to Coruscant.”

My outer mask was one of veiled politeness with a nervous tick and we both bowed in greeting.

“Thank you, chancellor. It’s a relief to be back,” Anakin nodded, a pleased smile on his face.

“I can only imagine my boy, please sit,” Palpatine gestured to the visitors’ chairs. “This war is running you both ragged, but it can’t be helped.” We took our seats. “If there were more Jedi, generals and commanders of your caliber in the GAR, we’d probably already be at the gates of Raxus Prime by now.”

It was amazing how Palpatine could compliment, stroke your ego, then in the same breath criticize an institution he helped create and lump in the Jedi with that. 

“Everyone’s doing the best they can, chancellor,” Anakin said mildly, with the tiniest hint of rebuke.

“I’m sure they are, Anakin,” he sighed wearily, his shoulders slightly drooping to give the impression he was a tiring Atlas carrying the galaxy on his shoulders. “If only that was enough to secure victory…”  Palpatine trailed off, his eyes gaining a thousand yard stare.

If he was using the Force, I had to tip my hat to him.

I still detected nothing, even using techniques learned with my training under Bendu .

Sure I wasn’t probing him actively, but his Stealth was still masterful and flawless. In the Force, he still looked exactly as he appeared to everyone else. He was definitely leaning on the Shroud to help, but that was just the ‘power source’ of the technique. The shaping of the Stealth was all down to his skill. 

“But come, we’re not here to waste time boring each other with the past and I certainly didn’t pull you out of Umbara in the middle of a battle on a mere whim. Though I must say, the holo droid proxy was an inspired idea. I didn’t think the day would come where we could be in two places at once. Am I correct in thinking it was your idea, Ahsoka?”

“The broad general idea, chancellor,” I confirmed, making my outward mask show discomfort. Presenting the point that I was still not used to the idea of being in a casual conversation with someone so important as Palpatine. “The technologies for direct mind-machine interface are quite common in the core and highly industrialized planets. We have a very good example right here,” I lightly thumped Anakin’s artificial right forearm, who gave me a mock-stern look. “The proxy interface is just taking that further into a non-invasive input and output form factor.”

“Fascinating,” Palpatine murmured. “I’ll definitely have to try it myself someday. Imagine, with the demands on my time, I could experience another world for an hour or two of relaxation without having to travel there first by starship.”

“It has many potential applications, chancellor,” I said with slight eagerness, pretending to come a little bit out of my shell. “Mostly I got the idea out of sheer necessity, because of events in the war and the time it takes to travel anywhere to intervene in them. So much could’ve been different.”

“I understand well, my dear. Believe me.”

I’m sure he did.

RI had an agent in MandalMotors and Palpatine had his own personal spy from his own network embedded on Concordia, who was in turn checking the RI agent and doing more work in the deeper shadows.

For the most part, I let them both do their thing with no interference. Both were there just for info gathering and no wetwork.

HK had trained a deniable counter-spy from Clan Vizsla to keep an eye on both, just in case Palpatine ever ordered something regrettable. The crazy ancient droid had further created and reprogrammed a spy droid to keep a general eye on the whole potential clusterfuck of spy vs spy, just in case.

“Now,” Palpatine broke the thoughtful silence we had lapsed into. “Anakin, I’m sure you remember both you and Master Kenobi’s efforts to capture Count Dooku, which was mostly successful until he reached Coruscant’s orbit. Where he was, much to everyone’s frustration, rescued by mercenaries facilitated by the Separatist spy ring on Coruscant.” Anakin only nodded. “Well, I’m pleased to report to you that there’s been a major breakthrough by Republic Intelligence. That ring has been found and quietly arrested. However, RI is maintaining the illusion that the spy ring is still operational to the Separatists.”

“Impressive,” Anakin smirked. “So we’re feeding false information back?”

“Only slightly, my boy,” Palpatine cautioned with a raised finger. “We can’t outright send back lies that can be easily disproved from other sources by the Separatists. Nevertheless, through careful deliberate leaks this has allowed RI to slowly work its influence all the way to the Outer Rim. Honestly Anakin, the minds of some of these spymasters baffle me. Yet it has given us this one opportunity. For the next two weeks, we know exactly where Count Dooku is and we’ve gained access to enough information about the location to where we’re confident a very special operation may succeed in capturing him.”

“And we’re going to be part of that operation,” Anakin deduced looking at me briefly. I adopted an impressed look on my outer mask.

“Precisely, my boy. Both you and Ahsoka, will infiltrate into the heart of Separatist space, capture Count Dooku and just as secretly bring him back to Coruscant to face justice for his many, many crimes.”

I did not need to fake any astonishment.

My wide eyes met Anakin’s and I could sense he was in the same boat.

“Chancellor,” he coughed. “You’ve always thought highly of me and my abilities, but what you ask is…”

“Impossible?”

“Extremely difficult,” Anakin clarified.

“No doubt it will be, Anakin. However, I’m not throwing you both to the rancors. RI has come up with a plan that has a high chance of success, but only if a small team of Jedi do it.”

Palpatine tapped on controls that were hidden from view behind his desk.

The expansive rear windows were closed behind armored shutters that raced across them. Then a moment later I sensed an extensive suite of counter-surveillance devices activate, in addition to the ones that were already running in the background.

A holo of a planet appeared above Palpatine’s desk.

“Obviously, Serreno is Dooku’s primary residence, but he must occasionally make a journey to Raxus Prime in person to conduct matters too sensitive to trust for even an encrypted Holonet communication. Sometimes he even uses an old fashioned message courier, carrying his orders. The journey between the two worlds, by nature of the hyperspace lanes in that region, is a convoluted mess at the best of times. Now with the Lianna and Felucia systems under threat from the GAR, Dooku’s travel time has been made even worse. Therefore he’s established a secret residence here,” Palpatine finger gestured to the holo. “The planet Stenos. A half-way stop to refuel and experience sun and air over his head, to relax from dealing with endless gripes and bickering of the Separatist parliament.”

Palpatine looked up at us and I could see the slight hint of the sinister pleasure he was getting from this. What was amazing to me was that to anyone else, it would just look like a cunning politician and statesman, who was plotting the downfall of his avowed enemy. Unless you knew the truth and then things came into hyperfocus on what was truly happening here. 

“He landed three days ago. This little retreat of his was the first piece of aurodium that RI discovered.” He reached into a compartment behind his desk and carefully placed a data chit on the surface close to Anakin. “There you will find all the details you will need and the logistical arrangements of getting you both there and back.”

My master stood briefly to pick it up before he tucked it away in a belt pouch. “Why send only us? With, for example, Master Windu or any other Jedi Master, our chances of success increase.”

“That is getting into the minutia of the plan, Anakin. I will say that it has to do with secrecy and that RI could only manage to arrange two cover identities. I also understand that to someone of Dooku’s powers, he can clearly sense someone with the strength of a Jedi Master from orbit and he knows them too well. Whereas you both can make yourselves hidden to him. I hope I have that correct, Master Yoda did explain it to me.”

Anakin nodded, “Has the Jedi Council seen this plan?”

“Only Masters Yoda and Windu, they also refined some aspects of it,” Palpatine answered with a slight smile. “I must admit I’m surprised they agreed to the compartmentalization. It’s not Jedi nature as far as I’m aware to keep secrets from each other, especially on the Council.”

“The war is teaching us all different lessons,” Anakin said with a sage air.

“Quite right, my boy. Quite right,” Palpatine was quite pleased now. “The only question then is if we are learning the right lessons from them.”

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The ship we would be using for the journey was berthed at the Jedi Temple complex, so we left the Senate aboard the Omen to park it in one of the deep hangar bays.

The plan unfortunately didn’t allow us to at least spend a day off, so we literally had to land, transfer our baggage immediately and move into the new ship to familiarize ourselves with it.

The moment I saw the ship in question though I had a brief stutter in my step, before I stopped to give it a critical eye.

“So what do you think, Snips?” Anakin asked, seeing me hesitate. “It’s brand new from CEC, a line they’re calling the VCX model. Meant to be lighter than the YT, carrying high value, small volume cargo through dangerous, contested space lanes. This one is built from the ground up to house a cloaking device, instead of an aftermarket add on.”

It was like I was looking at a sleeker and less bulky VCX-100. A ship that in another time and place, would be used by Hera Syndulla and her rebel cell.

The ship was quite hard to look at, because the hull was painted in a type of black that seemed to drink in all light. The only transparisteel window was in the forward bubble cockpit and there didn’t seem to be any obvious weapons on the thing.

“What’s it called?” I asked, pushing my other senses forward instead.

“A VCX-88, prototype stealth reconnaissance and transport ship. CEC wants this to be what the GAR thinks of when it comes to using cloaked scouts for fleets. It also doubles in the role that we’re going to be using it for; special operations.”

“Interesting,” I mumbled. “No missiles, no mounted turrets or cannons, but is that a tiny fighter docked in the dorsal structure?”

“Yes, that’s its last ditch defense. Everything on this ship is dedicated to stealth and keeping it that way. If that fails then you either hyper away, you abandon ship or die.”

“Bah,” I scoffed, “CEC is not thinking out of the box enough. Kuat is gonna beat them if this is what they’re putting forward to the Grand Army.”

We walked to the rear of the ship and its ventral embarkation ramp opened. I idly noted it was wide enough for three troopers to come down abreast at once.  

Inside it had that shiny, new ship feel and the interior felt like I was in a subdued Millenium Falcon, with military ruggedness evident throughout. The crew bunks were enough for nine people at once. Three would fly and manage ship systems, six would be for the embarked troopers or commandos, though that could be increased to twelve with a hot bunking system in place.

I sat down in the co-pilot seat and already missed the interfaces and controls of the Omen. This was the typical hard controls of buttons, knobs, levers and touch screen interfaces, with the only holo being the single small projector in front of me for communication and navigation visualization.  

If this is what CEC was doing in their prototypes, then I could already see KDY start to make inroads in their market share. Sure, CEC was known to be the rugged, almost apocalypse-proof starship maker, so they built to last and that design philosophy translated over into everything, but at least KDY built knowing that biological beings needed a bit of creature comfort to use their ships.

“Everything straightforward there, Snips?” Anakin asked, sitting down next to me.

“They’ve moved things around a bit, but it’s still CEC. Got the cloak and engineering panels, I need to sit down with the manual for an hour or two, but I’ll get the hang of it, master.”

“Good, our consumables are being loaded, we should be ready to leave then.”

“How much are they loading?”

“Two months worth for three people.”

“We might need to make a surreptitious stop along the way, master.”

He raised an eyebrow in my direction, “Oh?”

I smiled and shrugged, “You know me, master. I always like to have a three month consumable rating on any ship I generally fly.”

“You forget Snips, that our ship is not exactly stealthy if it's parked in plain sight in a civilian space port. Then next time we land, we’ll be on Stenos.”

My hand slapped my own forehead lightly, “Oh, forgot about that. I’ll go and tell the loaders to increase our consumables then.”

I got out of my seat.

“Snips-”

“Relax, master,” I said, giving him a subtle hand sign at my hip.

“Oh, all right. Get to it then.”

I rushed outside and gave the loading master the bad news. The man accepted the instruction with weary acceptance. He was an old hand civilian contractor working in the Temple hangars, so he was very used to quirks, odd events and requests around Jedi.

Back in the cockpit, I brought up the other thing that had been bugging me, but for this topic I had to switch completely to sign language, “Master, did you speak to Padme yet?”

Anakin’s eyes slightly widened, “Thanks, Snips. Do you mind…”

“Fine, I’ll handle the take-off if you get… delayed in the mindscape.”

“Thanks, you’re the best padawan in the galaxy, you know that?”

I folded my arms, giving him my best unimpressed look before shoo-ing him out the cockpit.

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It would be an eight day journey to Stenos.

Mostly because our route would require us to once again sneak straight through the front line battlespaces of the Hydian Way, then turn into the maze of hyperspace corridors of the Korphir Trace. The most notable destination of that maze was the Yavin system. We would turn out of the Korphir maze onto the Daragon Trail, follow that for a day before turning south onto the Ardan Cross, which would eventually curve into a north-east direction and finally let us arrive in the Stenos system.

The navigation challenge would’ve made both R2 and Chewie very happy, but alas neither of them could come with us on this one. Even if they could’ve just stayed on the ship the whole time, it wouldn’t have helped on the return journey, when we would hopefully have Dooku in custody.

And Dooku was not someone I wanted to expose Chewie to. The wookiee had been dreadfully unhappy about it, but eventually accepted that there was no getting around a plan that had been organized and ordered by so many important people. So I left him in Yoda’s capable hands to keep the big lump busy and suitably occupied in the Jedi Temple until our return.

“We’re a day away from Coruscant,” Anakin announced as he fell into the pilot’s chair. “Let me hear it, Snips.”

With my prescience now clear of the Shroud, things naturally became clearer, but in this case I only needed it for confirmation of what I already suspected and deduced.

I stared into the mesmerizing tunnel of hyperspace and began speaking. “The thing you must understand about the Sith, is that the relationship in their order between the master and apprentice is not sunshine and flowers. Both of them are always in a very dangerous and lethal competition with each other. The master must always test his apprentice to see if he is worthy of his position. The apprentice must always seek to rise and eventually destroy his master to claim the position of Sith Lord. For all that the enemy desires to end the Rule of Two, with regards to the competition between master and apprentice, he wants that to continue.”

“Great, so we’re being used as the weapon of the enemy,” he said with a sarcastic grimace.

“Yes, but he’s also shooting two targets with one bolt in this. We’re being tested as well, to see if we would make fit, vital and young replacements for crusty old Dooku.”

“He still hasn’t given up on that?” Anakin’s face twisted in distaste.

“No, and he will not. He’ll twist this galaxy asunder to bring us to his side and if we don’t, he’d sooner kill us than allow us to become a true threat.”

He leaned back in his chair, the Force twisted and bent around him, his own gaze rippling outward. “Are we even meant to succeed at all? He still needs Dooku for this war.”

“Contingency plans, Skyguy. If we fail, that failure in itself has planning and goals he wants to achieve. If we succeed, the same thing.”

“Will we succeed?”

I sighed, mapping the probability lines on this one had been enough to give me a solid migraine for hours. “Honestly, Skyguy. I’m not sure about this one. On the one hand, as much as I want Dooku out of the picture and rotting in a secure cell in the bowels of the Jedi Temple for the rest of his natural life - his absence will throw the CIS into a chaos that I don’t think the Republic can afford. Executive power will be squabbled over by the CIS Council and parliament for a while but Durge will step in on Palpatine’s behalf.”

“Durge?” Anakin asked in astonishment.

“Yes. However, he’s just there as an enforcer. He has no patience for the minutiae of leadership or natural charisma that Dooku had. He’s only there to tell the CIS council where to jump or else he kills them in a nasty fashion. He’s just there to buy time for Palpatine to organize a direct attack on the Jedi Temple, which liberates Dooku from his cell and in the process kills many Jedi just going about their day. Dooku is humbled before his master, the enemy adds more Jedi to the casualty list of the war. The entire probability line is a win-win for him.”

Anakin suddenly slammed his right fist onto the side console in frustration, “Kriffing Sith spit!” He fought for a while to regain his equilibrium, breathed deep and gave me a pointed look, “Tell me we have another option.”

“There is,” I smiled as a plan crystallized in my mind. It was something that I had been toying with for many months but now the stars began neatly aligning and slotting into place. “We will fail, but understandably, plausibly and in so doing pave the way to finally penetrate into the very heart of the enemy.”

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The VCX-88 that Anakin had named ‘Invader’, burst out of hyperspace and started cloaking even before the final deceleration was complete.

The stealth scout would’ve been a brief blip on anyone's scopes even had there been a full taskforce with active sensors beaming in our direction.

Ahead of us the planet Stenos began steadily increasing in size as we stealthily powered in for an atmospheric entry.

From space, the planet was a mostly green sphere writhed in fluffy white clouds with minimal oceans. It was also mostly a place of mountain ranges, pinnacles, high plateaus and rocky deserts.

As the Invader breached into the atmosphere and I could see a general view of the horizon, the reason why this could be a spot of relaxation became apparent. It was like I was looking at a planet sized Switzerland.

The scenic sights were to die for.

Some of the plateaus we flew over could’ve been idyllic, were it not for the bad part of this planet.

The locals who called this place home.

I was not looking forward to meeting any of them.

The natives were a race called the Stenax. A reptilian species, two and half meters tall on average. The least of them would look at bodybuilders on old Earth and declare them scrawny runts. Three sharp claws on each bipedal foot, five on each hand and additional spikes that grew out of their shoulders and the back of their calf muscles. They generally had scaly, purple-gray or red skin with fearsomely sharp faces and pointy ears. Then to add the final layer of nope to this cake, the stenax featured wings on their back that were fully functional and stretched out to the wingspan of a small plane.

I had the idle ridiculous thought that I wanted the Doomguy on speed dial and send him down there to do his thing.

At least the planet also featured an immigrant population of humans and bith, though most of them were involved in the criminal underworld.

The Force itself had a fierce, ill-tempered stain on it from the collective unconscious of the stenax.

That was probably why it was the ideal place for a Sith to do their version of meditation. I could just imagine Dooku tapping into that to fuel his strength in the Dark Side.

The Invader soon cruised invisibly over what passed for the capital city of the planet.

It was a partial ruin thanks to a series of cataclysmic quakes that had hit large sections of an entire continental plate more than a century ago. It had been so destructive, that it had regressed the stenax from a partially spacefaring species to one that was firmly planet bound. Their religion had decreed it was a punishment from their god, Vol, and until they had paid enough penance that they were not allowed to fly using their wings or with machines. Nor could they repair the damage.

That didn’t apply to off-worlders naturally and so it was largely only due to ‘aliens’ that any rebuilding was done, out of sheer necessity to have a roof over their heads.

What passed for a stenax government was an assemblage of family clans, almost in the Mandalorian model, but vastly more insular and if you weren’t ‘of the blood’ you were an outsider. The only policy that the outside galaxy knew of from this government, was that they didn’t care about outsiders, their ways or their doings, even if they were on the planet.

If an offworlder was to involve themselves, they would quickly find themselves regretting it and being ‘quartered’ in a very public killing.

This meant anyone could do business on Stenos, as long as they kept out of stenax business and didn’t upset the applecart of paying their penance to Vol.

No one had yet figured out just what the penance involved, besides being angry, miserable and stuck on the ground, eking out a meager existence.

Anakin brought in the Invader to land on the other side of a small forest on the expansive plateau that the capital was built on.

“We’re going to have to do a bit of acclimatization, Snips. The high altitude and low oxygen content this high is problematic.”

I glanced at the readings on the central MFD and could only nod. The capital sat at an altitude of just over 5800 meters above local sea level. We would have to use some internal Control to boost our breathing efficiency and carry a breather mask for supplemental oxygen.

We headed into the cargo bay to dress and assume our new identities.

If anyone had been outside, they would be astonished to see an embarkation ramp of a ship appear out of thin air. 

I tugged on my faded long sleeve shirt, sleeveless leather jacket with a million pockets, then fiddled with my gun belt to tighten it around my waist a bit more and ruffled my rugged blue pants to make them appear a bit more creased.

“Doing okay there, Snips?” Anakin asked with amusement.

“Fine, this stuff might look old, but the shirt material is itchy, the belt and shoes are too stiff and I’d really like to meet whoever at RI thought it was a good idea for us both to look like disreputable smugglers out of Tatooine who are just about making ends meet.”

Anakin at least looked somewhat cool; he had brown pants, leather boots up to his calves, blue tunic and a long brown coat that hung all the way down to just above his ankles. He even had knee pads and the visible holster for his heavy blaster pistol, which gave just the right aura of potential danger to him. The makeup on his face to give him a tan again, plus pulling his long hair into a severe short ponytail did wonders to make him at least not look like Anakin Skywalker at first glance.

It took much longer for me to not recognizably be Ahsoka Tano, given I had to use my facial tattoo patterning kit to put on an entirely different look. Gone were the diamonds on my forehead, the white pattern that imitated eyebrows and flared patterns on my cheeks. Now I essentially had a broad upturned ‘C’ stamped on my face in white, with two small curved rectangles on my forehead. I also took an airbrush to my lekku and montrals, changing my natural purple pattern to a burnt orange.

I hated it immediately, which was good, from a disguise point of view at least.

“I guess they thought they were doing me a favor, since I know very well what those are like,” Anakin guessed. “Now, Ahne Zam, time to get in character.”

I didn’t have to put up a mask to adopt a perpetually displeased and surly persona at the moment. “Zam? Now I really have to give the RI analyst a piece of my mind. On Shili, the Zams are usually perceived as the hicks, idiots and entitled fools.”

“Are they actually?” he asked as we walked down the ramp.

“No, of course they’re not, Geinn Sevam,” I retorted with his alias, then looked back at the invisible Invader. “It’s just a memetic perception created by popular media on the homeworld.” My hand reached into a belt pouch and after a few taps on the ship’s remote control, the embarkation ramp retracted. I couldn’t help but giggle now, “We better remember where we parked.”

“I don’t think we’re in danger of that, Ahne, unless we develop amnesia for some reason. Now let’s get going, we have an appointment to reach.”

The walk to the city outskirts was an easy, flat three kilometers, but I couldn’t help but become nervous as we passed the first wrecked buildings of what had been tall circular houses, left to erode in the elements for nearly a century. Native plant life was hard at work taking root and further eroding the structure.

I braced myself but I just barely suppressed a flinch when I saw my first stenax in person.

The guy was just going about his day and was oblivious to my struggles to not whip out my hidden Darksaber and end the threat.

They’re not demons, Ahsoka, get a grip, I remonstrated myself.

I let the fear pass through me, found my equilibrium, using the energy to spur myself and push it into my mask of perpetual surliness.

The roads were at least in a mildly good condition, again due to offworld labor working on them. It was a weird sight to see the haphazard reconstruction, with the new or rebuilt structures sprinkled among the ruins of old.

Each such building were havens for off-worlders and the stenax, who were invariably only dressed with raggedy skirts of various colors avoided the buildings like they had the plague.

With another few minutes of navigating by using a datapad with a map from our contact, we arrived at our noisy destination.

“A cantina, what a breathtakingly original meeting place,” I said sarcastically.

“It’s always in a centralized location and everyone wants something to drink, especially in this heat,” he looked up at the cloudless sky with the single bright sun beating down on everyone, before he briefly pulled out a respirator to take a hit of oxygen. “You doing okay with the altitude, Ahne?”

“I’m managing,” I grumbled, shrugging off his concern.

He rolled his eyes, playing his part as the long suffering partner-in-smuggling, forced to put up with me.

Inside the reasonably large cantina, the music was pretty good, with a pleasant ring to it and the occasional bass element. There was no live band and it was only coming from a music system. I couldn’t imagine Stenos being an attractive destination for any musician. The air was heavy with the stench both pleasant and unpleasant of smoking from all manner of devices; bubblies, electronic vapes and even hand rolled cigars. Inside there was a menagerie of humans, bith, twi’lek and other species, chatting, drinking and laughing. All of them were some flavor of scum and villainy as Obi-wan would put it. Nevertheless, it was a welcome change from the dour exterior of the ruined city.

We found ourselves an empty booth and it wasn’t long before a bith waiter came up and asked for our order in their chittering language.

“Yes, two of your best local brew,” Anakin ordered casually, immediately dropping an appropriate credit chit on the table.

The waiter snatched it up and assured he’d be back quickly with the order.

Moments later, we both had mugs of beer that reminded me in smell at least, of a dark beer, but looked like it came from a hypermatter reactor, as it glowed blue and frothed in a satisfying manner.

I casually stirred it with a fingertip, as if I was testing the temperature. It was satisfyingly cool but there was nothing in it that was either poisonous beyond the obvious alcohol.

‘Now, after all this time, Skyguy?’ I thought to him with amusement.

‘Figure you can handle it and it's part of our cover.’

Any further conversation was interrupted when he whipped out his heavy blaster pistol in a flash, stopping it on the forehead of a scrawny human male, who looked like he needed a shower and new clothes desperately. The wastrel, who had clearly tried to pickpocket Anakin, hastily held up his empty hands.

“Sorry, sorry, didn’t steal, nothin!”

“Really?” Anakin said dryly. “Ahne will be the judge of that.” He pulled away the blaster and gestured with it for the wastrel to sit opposite him.

I grimaced with distaste and scooted over to make space for the stinky human to sit down. His oily, clumped brown hair was dripping with sweat. “Really, Geinn?” 

“Yes, the faster you get it over with, the faster we can be sure.”

My pat down of the guy was suitably awkward and I kept my face sporting a disgusted look. Sure enough, in the inner pocket of his torn jacket I found a data chit, which I palmed surreptitiously.

“Nothing, bare pickings today, pickpocket?” I asked with a curled lip.

“Yeah, yeah, let me go already. If you were gonna fry my brains, you would’ve already. Besides, you’d also have to pay for the cleanup costs,” the pickpocket drawled in a strange accent of Basic… perhaps it was local.

Anakin sighed and gestured with the blaster, “Scoot, get out of here.”

The pickpocket bolted impressively. He had a good turn of speed.

I drank from my beer as I lifted a small datapad from my pocket, having already slotted in the chit under the table. The beer was wonderfully cold, refreshing, with a strong taste on the front end, alcoholic bite in the middle, with a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste. Pretty good.

What wasn’t good was what I was reading from our local contact disguised as a pickpocket.

“And?” Anakin thought.

“It seems the other RI agent, who was supposed to put the finishing touches on our potential infiltration of Dooku’s estate in the western highlands, has had the misfortune of getting on the bad side of a local stenax.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“The stenax in question is the son of a major patriarch in one of the most prominent clans of the capital and our agent’s due to be executed tomorrow.”

“Oh… frak.”

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A/N: A new arc begins. Hope you enjoyed and that your weekend will be great. Stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 96

“Didn’t think it’d come to this.”

Fives looked at Jesse and couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment.

Here the three of them were, after having pulled off the impossible and they were facing a court martial for it.

They were stripped of their armor, leaving them in the matt black under suits, with only the armored shoes on their feet leaving any hint that they were actually soldiers of the Republic. Surrounding them was a cramped cell in the Umbaran idea of a prison, more like a detention pit.

It was meant to only hold one prisoner, but given that the rest of the cells in the multilevel pit were filled with Umbaran prisoners of war, this had been the only unoccupied one left.

The front of the cell was covered with a transparent blue tinted force field and if anyone had the bright idea that a power failure would allow for an escape, the only thing beyond the field was a massive drop that seemingly had no bottom. There were also dispersed laser grids on multiple floors of the pit, that would neatly turn your body into seared meaty chunks on the way down as well. Then the final bit of humiliation was that this gave the prisoners no privacy and Fives could see dozens of cells containing umbarans.

No sound was able to penetrate through the force fields but that didn’t stop the umbarans from sneering, scowling and throwing numerous hand gestures that he assumed were very rude in their culture. One umbaran in particular was quite creative and actually did a pantomime that Fives could somewhat understand - suffice to say that it was disturbing and clearly involved sexual activities of a kind that he only vaguely knew existed at all.

Another indignity was going to the small ‘fresher in the corner of the cell. Fives had no problem among his fellow brothers, but the rude umbaran and his fellows laughed, sneered and did their pantomime all over again.

“You and me both,” Hardcase sighed. “We’re going to be stuck down here, whilst our brothers go and invade that city.”

Fives couldn’t help the surge of anger that shot through him and his hand slammed into the unyielding wall in frustration. He welcomed the pain and shook out his fingers. “Krell wouldn’t even be in a position to do that, if it hadn’t been for us! Imagine he had marched us straight into the teeth of that fort and its missiles… wiped out the 501st to the last man, how would that look to the other Jedi and Republic?”

“I can’t imagine that, sorry brother,” Jesse said darkly. “But the least they would do is strip him of command, remove him from the GAR. That way, our future brothers wouldn’t have to suffer from his poor tactics.”

“Doubt it, numbers are always against us in this war. The Jedi can’t afford to pull Krell. His record defends him, unfortunately.”

“A record built on the blood of too many of our brothers,” Fives pointed out with a sneer.

He hated that he went through so much in the course of his life for it to end at the blaster point of a fellow brother.

His training squad on Kamino had been slated to fail and that he became a full fledged trooper at all was a miracle. By all rights, he should’ve become a maintenance worker on Kamino, but the old Domino training squad had pulled through in the end. Despite that heady promise of great things to come, it had been replaced by the boring drudgery of being assigned to a listening post, where one day had blended into the next - of procedure, drill and looking at empty screens.

That changed of course, when droid commandos had invaded the listening post.

The aftermath of the battle to regain control was the first major turning point Fives could point to, when finally things were going in the direction he wanted. When he had become an ARC trooper, training directly under Captain Rex and Commander Tano. He always just wished it hadn’t cost the lives of Hevy and Cutup.

So many battles followed, but with General Skywalker leading, it always seemed like the ARC troopers of the 501st could do anything, no matter how outlandish… victory always seemed to come.

Escape an inescapable prison in the middle of enemy territory after infiltrating? No problem. Steal an enemy dreadnought, fly it across enemy space, kicking a new hole in the clanker navy’s backside and then escaping; just another day in the 501st.

Flying three commandeered Umbaran fighters, posing as the enemy to drop plasma missiles right on a factory in the heart of the enemy, should’ve been another proud chapter to add to the saga of the 501st. Now it would be marred with the first court martial in the legion’s history.

His dire thoughts were interrupted though when he spotted the nearest laser grids deactivating.

From above a circular elevator that was made out of a white colored force field platform began descending and he could see the rugged boot soles of five troopers from underneath.

It stopped at the level of their cell and was revealed to be Captain Rex with a four man armed detail behind him.

Their CO stepped forward and Fives could immediately tell from the look on Rex’s face that this wouldn’t be good news.

Rex tapped a button on the side of the cell door and suddenly they could hear the distant thumps of the battle raging across the greater city.

“Fives, Jesse, Hardcase,” Rex met each of their eyes. “I’ve tried everything and I fear I’ve made things only worse in trying to plead for you. General Krell has ordered your immediate execution.”

“What?!” Jesse stood up in anger. “Without a court martial? He can’t do that!”

“He has authority to render punishment during combat, whether our occupation of this base qualifies as ‘combat’ is a gray area that he doesn’t have the time to make. He also doesn’t want to bother with the formality of a court martial, again arguing that our coming attack on the capital makes that impractical.”

“A court martial is required no matter the circumstances, the only way it's allowed to be dismissed is when there are literal blaster bolts flying through the air.”

“I know and I agree, but the general sees it as a matter of enforcing his command. If he allows you to get away with disobedience, it might encourage others to do the same.”

Fives stepped forward, his eyes blazing as he looked at his CO, “Rex, you have to face it. He’s been using you. He’s been an unworthy, dishonorable commander from the moment he took command. The only thing he seemingly knows is to order our brothers into suicidal frontal attacks. He is either totally incapable of tactical nuance or just does not bother with it. Even with the corridor we opened for our attack; you know and the entire 501st knows that he’ll do the same thing… only this time in the cluster frak that is an urban assault!”

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, willing Rex to understand.   

The CO held his gaze for a while before tapping another button on the side of the cell.

The force field door dissolved and Rex stepped back, nodding at the escort detail. The four troopers stepped forward with binders and secured Fives, Jesse and Hardcase’s arms behind their backs.

“I won’t let him get away with this,” Rex vowed to them. “When the jamming lifts, I’ll be on the com to General Skywalker first thing and you can imagine Commander Tano’s reaction for yourself.”

“I wish I would be alive to see that,” Hardcase laughed gruffly as they were led out of the cell and onto the elevator platform.

Fives saw his CO’s clear regret and shook his head, “Rex, whatever happens. Don’t beat yourself up over it. We went into this eyes wide open on the possible consequences. Just didn’t imagine it would happen this quickly.”

The elevator began its ascent out of the detention pit.

When they emerged through the double sided blast doors and back into the corridors of the interior base, Fives was rather startled to see that they had company.

The corridor on either side was lined with off-duty troopers of the 501st, standing not in judgment or condemnation, but at attention with clear respect. As if they were the honor guard of war heroes, not of condemned traitors.

In the moment, Fives felt his heart somewhat buoyed, allowing him to straighten his shoulders and stiffen his spine as he walked to his death.

They were led through the many corridors and turbolifts of the base until they emerged from a side entrance to the control tower and into the Umbaran night again.

Fives looked up into the dark starry sky and breathed the air deep, grateful that the ever present cloud cover had seen fit to lift for this occasion. He listened to the distant rumble of explosions and artillery. Saw the flashes of multicolored light on the distant horizon, refracted by the clouds there. He had to admit, it was pretty, even if it signified his brothers fighting and dying against the enemy.

He hated that he would never see them again. That he would never experience Jesse’s optimism and Hardcase’s gruff straightforward attitude. How ironic that it was only now, as he was staring death in the face, that his appreciation for them and what they did to keep him grounded would manifest.

They were led to an area in front of the tower, directly under the lee of one of the major structural supports.

There a firing squad detail of six troopers led by Dogma was waiting.

Of course it would be Dogma.

A name that his brother had gotten for an almost slavish devotion to the regs. Fives often thought that Dogma slept with a datapad under his pillow with a copy of the full clone trooper regs manual. He could just imagine how he would react to news of the mission they had run against orders.

“Line up the prisoners,” Dogma ordered.

Fives, Jesse and Hardcase stood opposite the firing squad at seven meter range.

The six troopers in the firing squad had removed their helmets, so they at least had the respect to show their faces to their condemned brothers and the long barreled DC15-As was at rest next to their legs.

Fives looked to Rex and the four troopers who had escorted them here. They stood like silent statues, yet he understood they were just as trapped as if they had binders on their wrists. Trapped by the system, in this extreme case of a malicious Jedi general towering over them. He understood that they were conditioned to obey orders from the point that they were younglings, sitting in those vast white halls in front of the education terminals. However, if there was one thing that the reality of the galaxy had shown them, it was never just that simple.

The location of this firing squad was also not chosen for convenience. It didn’t escape Fives’ notice that the tower command center high above could look down on this spot and he could just bet that Krell was up there keeping an eye on proceedings.

“Do the prisoners request to be blindfolded?” asked Dogma.

Fives almost laughed as his fellow brother followed the regs to the letter, despite the fact that he knew no one in the 501st facing the same situation would ever request the blindfold.

They just stared silently at Dogma with glares at the stupid question.

“I’ll take that as a no,” he concluded and walked towards the side of the firing squad. “Ready weapons!”

The firing squad in perfect synchronization, brought up their blasters to right shoulder arms.

“Aim!”

Fives felt like he was shot already as he now stared down the barrel of two DC-15As wielded by his own brothers. He didn’t know it was possible to feel this way, for his heart to experience a sensation like this, which also lanced into his mind.

“Wait!” Fives snapped, preempting Dogma’s order and glaring at his brothers behind the triggers. “This is wrong and we all know it! The general is making a mistake and he needs to be called on it. No soldier in this army should go out in this way! We are loyal, we follow orders but we are not a bunch of unthinking droids! We are men and we must be trusted to make the right decisions, especially when the orders we are given are wrong!”

Fives realized it only as he said possibly the last words he would ever say in this life, that those words were anathema to Dogma.

“Fire!”

In less than a moment, every soldier in the firing squad pulled the trigger.

The sound of six close range DC-15As thundered through Fives’ ears and his heart skipped a beat.

He felt numb and just stared at the men of the firing squad with what was probably a face that he was taking to his death.

Then the reality of the situation hit him like a crashing gunship.

He turned his head slowly around at the scorch marks of the plasma bolt that had missed his head by less than five millimeters. His nose smelled the stench of burned hair on his scalp.

His head turned right and sure enough, the story was repeated for Jesse and Hardcase.

The firing squad had carried out their orders literally, but had chosen to miss.

“What?” Dogma asked, totally bewildered. He whirled on the troopers of the firing squad, “What was that?!”

They answered him by dropping their weapons purposefully to the ground. The heavy clatter of durasteel and composites echoed over the area.

Fives almost gaped at the display. For clone troopers to do such a thing to a weapon, any weapon, was unheard of. The second lesson a trooper had drilled into them was that your weapon was your life. You respected it and treated it well.

Rex walked forward and now stood in the firing line of the squad.

That act alone told Fives that this was over, one way or another.

“They’re doing the right thing, Dogma, because if this is how soldiers are rewarded for heroism, then one day, every man in the 501st may face a similar fate.” Rex turned to the escorting troopers. “Take off their binders,” he ordered in no uncertain terms.

A whole body relief washed through Fives like he was standing underneath a refresher hose. He fought his own legs and willed through the impulse to just collapse onto his butt.

His arms came free and seeing his own hands again… how can something so simple be so amazing?

“No, no! We have orders, we have to go through with this!” Dogma pointed at the firing squad.

Rex was now technically within his own rights to charge Dogma for acting contrary to his own orders, but his CO just shook his head, “Good luck finding anyone to carry out those orders.”

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As the turbolift rose up the tower, Rex couldn’t help but feel that somewhere they had crossed a threshold.

Right now, the entire 501st was technically in rebellion against its commanding officer. That officer was a Jedi Master with all the strength and supernatural feats that came with that title. Knowing what General Skywalker and Commander Tano did on a regular basis in battles; controlling the very ground beneath their feet, ripping the enemy weapons right out of their mechanical claws, using large rocks as kinetic weapons on demand and that didn’t even get into how capable they were with a lightsaber.

If they could do it, then Krell could too and how much of the 501st could he cut down before they could overwhelm him with either blaster fire or a trap of some kind. Maybe an entire squad with Z-6 Rotary’s shooting at him from every angle…

Rex caught himself and firmly banished those thoughts. 

The turbolift doors opened and, ignoring the constant glare of Dogma at his side, he walked into the command center.

Krell stood there, staring into the holotank with his four arms folded behind his back.

“You wanted us, sir,” Rex said flatly.

“I ordered those clones to be destroyed.” Krell turned around and put an almost friendly hand on Rex’s left shoulder, he knew it was anything but.

Rex could feel the strength there. He knew the besalisk’s natural strength could snap bones easily, but give them Jedi training and he wouldn’t be surprised if Krell could pulp his shoulder with a squeeze, armor or not.

“You are making a mistake by crossing me, clone,” Krell said slowly, dangerously.

Rex stared into those disrespectful yellow eyes. “It’s captain, sir.”

Krell partially bared his large, very sharp teeth, growling lowly at the defiance Rex was showing.

He fully expected the Jedi to whip out those large double bladed lightsabers and start swinging-

“General!” said a trooper who was manning a communication station. “There’s an incoming transmission.”

“Put it through,” Krell said and backed off to turn to the holotank.

Rex buried his relief and saw a lieutenant with markings of the 212th resolve in the center of the holotank.

“General, the umbarans have launched a counter-attack towards your position. We’re holding them off for the moment, but they managed to ambush one of our platoons, seizing weapons and uniforms. We believe this may just be vanguard for a massive push to retake the airbase.”

The holo of the trooper cut off and winked out.

“Looks like you have your stay of execution, for now,” Krell grumbled, tapping Rex right on the chest plate and then walked off. “Lock the traitors back in the brig and prepare your troops to move out-”

What happened next was so fast, that Rex felt like he must have lost some time somewhere.

One moment, Krell was just walking towards the turbolift and the next…

The characteristic snap-hiss of a lightsaber, a blur of movement and the clone trooper who’d been manning the communication console stood next to Krell, with a blue lightsaber held right to the besalisk’s chubby neck.

“What?!”

Rex had never imagined he would’ve ever seen surprise on Krell’s face, but here it was.

Krell stood as still as a statue and his eyes glanced down the blue blade towards the silver hilt held by the trooper. A hilt that Rex recognized immediately.

But that was impossible. It felt like the universe had suddenly tilted on an axis and didn’t make sense anymore.

“Belay that order and anything else General Krell has ordered,” said the voice of General Skywalker himself, that somehow came from the trooper, only it wasn’t filtered at all through the voice vocorder in the helmet. “Rex, tau, three, four, alpha, tau, omega, I hate sand.”

In that moment, his memory of a training session months ago slammed forward to prominence.

It had been him and every single senior ARC officer in the 501st, together with General Skywalker and Commander Tano. It had been a more theory and classroom oriented training, focusing on the need for ARC troopers to be at least fluent in some aspects of the ‘spy game’. The primary lesson being intelligence was the eyes and ears of an army and that deception was fooling and blinding the eyes of the enemy to act in ways that favored you. Added almost as an addendum was that there would come times when either of their Jedi commanders would have to go undercover within the 501st.

Rex could not imagine any reason for why that might be necessary, nor how Commander Tano was supposed to blend in, with her obvious physical traits getting in the way of trying to fit into clone trooper armor. 

She had merely smirked at them, ‘There are ways.’ And then had them memorize recognition codes for such an occasion when they had to reveal or identify themselves. It was also curious how stark the memory was in his mind, even now he felt like he might as well be reliving it.

The moment passed.

Rex snapped to attention immediately, whirling to the other troopers in the room. “Confirmed. This is General Skywalker, secure your stations!”

Dogma was naturally bewildered, “What? Rex? What’s going on?”

“You will stand down, Dogma and keep your hand away from that blaster pistol.” Rex had spotted the man’s hand straying to his right waist, but his own instincts and conditioning caused him to freeze.

The clone trooper disguise seemed to wobble, as if it was blending the properties of water and light, before it settled to the form of General Skywalker in his Aegis armor without the helmet on.

“Fascinating,” grumbled Krell. “A holo-sheathe, Skywalker? I sense you, yet I don’t sense you… yet you were right there all this time, how did you hide from me?”

“I’m afraid, Master Krell, that I will not be wasting time by enlightening you on how I did that,” stated the true general of the 501st calmly. “I will simply tell you that I have everything you did just now as hard evidence of your treason and more, so I’m going to give you the time to answer one question, why?”

Rex was baffled. Treason? How had Krell done that? When did he even have the time? Fortunately, he didn’t have to worry about that now. He was sure that would come later from General Skywalker’s lips.

“How magnanimous of you. Why, you ask?” scoffed Krell. “I pity you, Skywalker. You stand there in judgment of me when you are nothing more than a puppet, an actor. Only seeing this war for what it is on face value. The gallant, bold Republic fighting against the evil Separatists. You lead clones to face off against droids in battle after battle, as if it’s making any difference whatsoever.” Krell laughed darkly. “I lost that naivety long ago.”

“And in the process gave in to your darkness,” Skywalker sneered.

“Oh no, I just opened my eyes, Skywalker, to the truth. A new power is rising, I’ve foreseen it. The Jedi are going to lose this war and the Republic is going to be ripped apart from the inside. In its place is going to rise a new order and I will rule as part of it.”

“You’re a Separatist?” Dogma gaped.

“Oh, little clone, I serve no side, only my own and soon… my master.”

“An agent of Dooku?” Rex questioned, his own hand was itching to go for his own pistol, but that would be suicide against a Jedi who still had their lightsabers.

“Not yet, after I’ve succeeded in driving the Republic from Umbara, the count will reward my actions and make me his new apprentice.”

Skywalker chuckled, “I see the darkness has already started to warp your ego out of proportion, Krell. You’d have to go through me, the 501st, Masters Kenobi, Tiin and their legions before that could even be a possibility. Then you’d have to survive the entire Republic fleet and blockade still in orbit.”

“You have no concept of the power of the Dark Side, Skywalker,” Krell rumbled dangerously, his eyes narrowing.

Rex felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and he could see that Krell and Skywalker were… staring at each other?

Then he noticed the general’s blade slightly tremble.

“How long since you’ve fallen, Krell? You’ve been hiding it quite well.”

The besalisk gritted his sharp teeth, his eyes flaring an even brighter yellow. “Months, but I’ve always been out on campaign and I learned how to suppress it by myself. I needed no master, no guide, no book. I figured it out.”

“And in all that time, you’ve been undermining the war effort? The high casualty rates are by design isn’t it?”

“Of course it is! Umbara is going to be my crowning achievement. Kenobi and Tiin will fail miserably to conquer the capital, they’ll be weakened and I will have little trouble killing them. Then when the Umbarans turn their attention this way, their counterattack will wipe out your precious 501st to the final pathetic clone and I will be there, slaughtering them as well! After I have scrapped this droid you are somehow controlling!”

Skywalker chuckled. “Our battle for control of my lightsaber is straining you already… I must admit, it’s quite the effort to keep you from simply pulling it out of my hand. You’re strong, Krell, but if you think your ‘efforts’ to make Dooku notice you have had any effect… well, he knows you’ve fallen.”  

“Trying Dun Möch on me, Skywalker. Pathetic.”

“He knows and you’d think he would’ve tried to secretly contact you. He’s had every opportunity after all. It wouldn’t be too difficult for a message to reach you. So why Krell, do you think no message has come?”

Krell growled again, “It will come, Skywalker, when I present the heads of Kenobi and Tiin to him.”

“No, it won’t. You’ve already been judged, Krell. You’ve been left to fall, to destroy as much as possible within the GAR as you do so.”

Rex only had half understanding of what was going on here, but given the demonstrations of Commander Tano, Skywalker and Krell were literally fighting an unseen battle using the Force.

Then Krell screamed.

It was not just a scream of his voice.

Rex felt as if a small bomb had just gone off as he and every other clone in the command center were blown off their feet, to crash against the walls or consoles.

His own back had rather painfully intersected with the edge of the holotank and his brains were rattled.

Get up, Rex, he thought to himself. Thankfully, his armor’s backplate had also done its job in preventing his spine from being broken. He wearily got up and automatically drew his pistol, flicking it to stun.

If you ever have to engage a Force user working for the enemy and all you have is a blaster, use the stun setting for frak’s sake! At least that way, you’ll only be knocked out by your own bolt when it’s sent back to you!

Another memory from Commander Tano’s training flashed to the forefront of his mind.

But now he, Dogma and the other troopers assigned to the command center witnessed the full fury of a lightsaber battle where the two opponents were trying to kill each other. Skywalker and Tano had given one or two sparring demos to the 501st; those were playful contests in comparison to this.

Skywalker and Krell were fast blurs of blue and green as the two double blades of the traitor contested with the general’s single blade.

The awful clashes and screams as the blades glanced, intercepted and bashed against each other filled the command center.

“Back off! No interference!” Rex snapped as the other troopers got to their feet, drawing any weapon they had, most of which was pistols and one carbine, however, he saw that one wasn’t getting up.

Without taking his eyes off the battle, he edged sideways towards the fallen trooper. When he finally felt his right boot bumping against the hip of the fallen brother, he knelt down and chanced looking down.

It was Dogma, who had taken a bad hit against his head, which was now bleeding profusely as all head wounds tended to do.

He pointed at the nearest two troopers, “You two, Fetch and Loper, get some first aid started here… duck!”

The two troopers barely made it, as one of Krell’s saber staffs spun right towards them when they had turned towards Dogma.

Miraculously though, the saber halted itself less than a meter away and gave time for both brothers to fling themselves to the ground nearby Dogma. The deadly weapon spun back into the hands of Krell and he laughed darkly. His voice echoed unnaturally through the space.

“You’re so caring about these clones, Skywalker,” Krell said as there seemed to be a lull in their fight… both combatants simply walking in a circle with blades raised in ready stances. “You could’ve killed me there, but instead you chose to save the lives of two worthless clones. It's a weakness, a weakness of all Jedi that’s been used against us… or should I say you… throughout this war.”

“What you think of as weakness, is strength. You just can’t see it, you’re incapable now,” Skywalker said. In a marked contrast, he was calm in the face of the blazing fury of Krell’s expression and those unnatural eyes.

Loper had already opened his belt pouch and had pulled out the med kit there, opening it with steady hands and pulling out a micro suture tool, which he handed to Fetch to benign the work of closing up that head wound.

“Fool!”

Krell threw one of his blades, then followed it up with an actual charge towards Skywalker.

Rex’s breath was blown away at how easily the general seemed to just dismantle the attack.

Krell’s spinning blade was stopped dead and sent right back, but clearly he wasn’t as in control of it anymore, as he was forced to dodge his head to stop it impaling him there, before one of his huge right hands could get a grip on it.

His left hand blade tried to cut Skywalker from groin to head, a bisecting slice, but the general simply took a blurring step backward, and used his own blade to deflect Krell’s upward.

Rex blinked and he missed what happened next.

He just heard a screaming slash, saw a flash of sparks and then a quarter of Krell’s lightsaber hilt falling to the floor and bumped against the console on the floor.

Krell snarled, backed off and held up his damaged left hand blade.

The traitor was now down to only having three active blades.

“Aaargh!”

He charged again and they began a standing fight where Rex could only see the blurry passage of the blades around each fighter.

General Skywalker stood like a bastion, weathering the storm of Krell’s fury. His feet seemed to only move with quick, assured movement with an economy of motion that really impressed Rex and made him rather envious. He was far from a slouch in fighting with a vibroblade, but this was at another level of mastery, speed and skill.

Then Skywalker suddenly seemed to flow and duck with a movement of his blade, again too quickly for the eye to see, there was another slashing hiss and a piece of Krell’s right hilt flew off.

He now only had two working blades.

“Is this what you’re doing Skywalker?!” Krell roared as his many arms blurred with attacks. “Destroy my lightsabers? Disarm me so you can take me back to Coruscant to face justice?”

The general didn’t answer.

A moment later, he seemed to bend backward so an attack would miss his chest, only his back bent to an utterly unnatural angle, his right foot hit Krell in the right knee, whilst the general’s lightsaber spun so fast and in a way that shouldn’t be possible if it was held in a hand.

An awful sounding singe echoed through the room. 

Krell reeled backward, his lower right arm now hanging limply from a cauterized lengthwise cut that had breached his defenses and his left knee was clearly not working right as he was now favoring his right leg to take most of his significant weight.

The besalisk had been angry before, but that had been a light breeze compared to the gale force wind of anger that adorned his features now.

“Haaaa!” Krell moved his blades against General Skywalker with such strength and ferocity, that the Jedi was electing to now dodge most of the attacks, again using that unnatural agility, speed and contorting his body in ways the human body clearly wasn’t designed to do.

When their blades did meet the pitch and tone of the lightsabers crashing against each other sounded like awful high pitched electronic screams.

Rex shook his head to clear it from looking at the spectacle of battle. Really? Was he some shiny straight off the ship from Kamino? Thankfully, it seemed Fetch and Loper had done their job as best they could given the circumstances. The only thing left was to get Dogma out of here to a medical bay on the base - which hopefully wouldn’t be too different that they couldn’t be used by non-umbarans.

To his chagrin, the rest of the troopers in the room had heeded his orders at least to sit tight and were now looking at him on what to do, even as they were occasionally distracted by the deadly, incredible spectacle in front of them.

He didn’t want to shout orders, as that would just encourage Krell to try the same trick to distract General Skywalker at a critical moment. He could’ve used the radio over a secure channel and disable the helmet’s external speaker, but his helmet was lying near the holotank and entirely too close to the fight. Hand signals it would have to be.

As subtly as possible, using his own body to shield what was happening, he began.

‘On my signal. Aim enemy. Stun. Move.’

The other troopers in the room didn’t give any nods or visible indicators that they understood, but Rex knew they did just from the fact that all of them turned to face the battle and crouched.

Krell would know it was coming moments before it happened, but Rex had an idea.

Whether or not General Skywalker could win, he didn’t know for sure. It seemed like he could, but Rex’d be damned if they just sat here and did nothing.

“Ha ha ha, you are playing for time, Skywalker? You think that little sedative poison you hit me with will do anything?” Krell’s smile was viscous as his blades hammered down onto the general’s. “I’m already halfway through isolating and neutralizing it.”    

Skywalker again didn’t respond to the taunt or seem phased at all. Rex didn’t know when the purported poison could’ve been used, but things had happened so fast…

The general suddenly intercepted both Krell’s blades in a horizontal block, then powered a kick forward to slam into the besalisk’s stomach.

However, the enemy had a third free arm, which surged downward to grab the general’s right leg, which shimmered slightly as the big hand went through the holofield there.

“Ha ha, I have you now!”

Skywalker just smiled and he jumped with his left leg, also pushing forward on Krell’s blades.

Rex felt the air rushing through the room as probably the Force was used in some manner, but the result was clear.

The besalisk had actually been put on the backfoot.  

The enemy’s own blades were pushed back and threatening to cut right into his own shoulders.

He was forced to let go of the general’s leg and actually retreat another step, coming ever closer to the turbolift door of the command center.

Skywalker pushed off the enemy’s chest and flipped backward…

“FIRE!” Rex brought up his pistol and fired.

He knew his own draw speed and reflexes was about 0.52 of a second. He wasn’t the fastest in the 501st, but he was in the top five.

Five blue ring stun bolts seared through the air towards Krell from different angles even as Rex immediately fell into a roll, whilst the other troopers ducked, dodged or fell prone.

Even so, Krell’s two blades managed to fend off three stun shots. He caught two on a single blade and deflected the third straight to Skywalker who was still landing.

Two stun bolts hit the enemy on the right arm and chest.

Then a third came from Skywalker’s own deflection and slammed home right in the besalisk’s face.

Yet the enemy was still on his feet, if slightly dazed, his blades were still up and ready.

Rex took all this in and just fired again when he had a clear shot.

Bolt after bolt came from the troopers.

Krell deflected most, showing his besalisk constitution combined with being a fully trained Jedi which clearly had some perks.

He even managed to send a bolt straight back to Fetch, who immediately slumped into unconsciousness.

Three more shots got through the enemy’s defenses and then General Skywalker raised a hand towards Krell and curled it into a fist.

The enemy’s eyes rolled upward and he just crumpled onto the floor in a heavy tangle of limbs, his lightsaber’s shutting themselves off before he could injure or kill himself on them.

Rex kept his blaster trained on the downed besalisk and carefully stepped forward, intending to remove those dangerous weapons-

“Easy Rex,” the general cautioned, holding up a hand.

The damaged hilts flew out from the crumpled body and Skywalker caught them in his left hand.

“It’s over, sir?”

Skywalker walked over to Krell’s unconscious form and plucked off the comlink from one of the four arms. “For now, Rex. Get me two pairs of large binders. We need to move him down to the sickbay of this place.”

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For the next hour, Rex had to put out the fires of worry and confusion among the men of the 501st. Yes, General Skywalker was here, sort of. Yes, former General Krell was under arrest for treason and currently being treated for his injuries in the sickbay, whilst being kept under sedation. Krell, it turned out, had also lied about the extent of the jamming that blanketed the capital city.

If he had just bothered to try again after twenty minutes or so, he would’ve been able to contact General Kenobi again, but the besalisk Jedi had purposefully been isolating the 501st, intending to march them all to their doom.

The final true treason, though, came from the revelation that Krell had also given 212th the same orders and false intelligence. That there were umbarans who had stolen clone armors and were posing as members of the 501st.

Even now Rex felt like he wanted to pop a blood vessel in anger just thinking about the fallen Jedi’s plan. Send the 501st and 212th against each other in the field, each side thinking the other were imposters.

He didn’t even want to think about how many men would’ve died before either side would’ve realized that they’d been deceived.

They didn’t just have Krell to worry about though and he ordered double patrols and strengthening the perimeter guard of the base.

With proper communications restored, the true tactical picture came with it.

Fives’ plan had worked.

The Umbarans had become naturally frugal about using their long range missiles and that was all that General Kenobi’s troops, properly supported via the air with fighters and a single Acclamator to act as a fire shield to swat the missiles completely out of the sky. It was a risky and bold move, using an Acclamator for close-in fire support.

If it had been shot down, the ship would’ve potentially crashed right on top of the legions. It was awfully close to violating the prohibition regs on orbital strikes, the only difference being the altitude and the fact that the Acclamator had only struck at air targets.

With that, the GAR had finally pierced the capital’s defenses and the 7th Sky Corps were now in the city and engaging in street to street fighting against the Umbaran militia.

It would be a hard bloody affair, but with no air support and supplies cut off completely, it was now just a question of time.

His feet now carried him to the sickbay of the air base, which was big enough to remind him of some of the medical facilities on Kamino. Though there was no comparison in the technology. The Kaminoans firmly beat almost anyone in the galaxy in that respect. 

He found General Skywalker standing next to the large prone form of Krell, who had to be supported on two bio beds pushed together. One of the traitor’s arms was encased in a bacta cast, whilst his other arms were bound in durasteel cuffs. Somehow the troopers had found a way to modify an existing one to fit around the ankles as well, using the air base maintenance shops.

Skywalker lifted a hypogun and held it against the blubbery neck of the besalisk, which he triggered with a hiss, before placing a hand on the traitor’s forehead and closing his eyes.

“Rex, how are the men?”

“Rattled but morale is sky high now that you’re here again.”

Skywalker opened his eyes and sat down in the chair next to the bio beds. “I’ve received a new update from General Kenobi. They’re close to the central government complex, things are going as well as can be expected. However, they’ve spotted an increasing movement of militia that are attempting to retreat… right in our direction.”

“How many?” Rex asked gravely.

“Best estimate, at least a battalion, so far.”

“We can easily take that, but if that number goes higher…”

“We might be forced to retreat ourselves,” Skywalker nodded. “If they invest themselves from here to mount a resistance, it’ll only prolong this conflict. The Umbaran royal caste will refuse to surrender, knowing that they still have loyalists here.”

Which meant more of his fellow brothers dying, exactly what Krell would want.

“We’ll hold, general. Whatever it takes.”

“Something which my padawan will help you with. That fight took a lot out of me and I’m also having to work to keep Krell unconscious.”

“Sir, if I may ask, why are we keeping him alive? He’s a clear traitor, if we have to leave this base we’re in no position to take him with us safely. Everything he knows, command codes…”

“No, I’ll stop you right there. He must be judged by the Council and the Republic must see it happen.”

Rex frowned, “If… you say so, sir. I can tell there’s something going on way over my head.”

“There is, but if you’ll excuse me for a moment-”

General Skywalker became absolutely still for a moment, not even breathing… then his entire form rippled and shimmered to be replaced with a decidedly larger version of Commander Tano in her armor. It was as if she had suddenly bulked up around the shoulders and had much taller legs, which he knew as just an artifact of the holodroid structure beneath.

The posture and subtle mannerisms though was an exact match for her. He also felt his own spirits naturally being lifted in that way whenever she was in his presence.

She blinked, visibly breathing and smiled at him, giving a relaxed wave, “Hey Captain Rex.”

“Commander.”

She stood and placed her fingers on Krell’s forehead, “Tsk, tsk, master. Always using a sledgehammer when a scalpel will do. He’ll not wake up now until I let him.”

She tapped and fiddled with her comlink for a bit, until the half-body holo image of the Mandalorian Blade Ursa Wren appeared.  

“Manda’lor, we’re in position.”

“Good, bring in the cask.”

“At once.”

“Captain, notify your men in the north of the base that they’ll soon see a shuttle escorted by jetpacking Mandalorians on approach. Let them land with full clearance.”

“Yes, sir.”

He quickly donned his helmet and did as ordered. “Cask, commander? You mean those-”

“Yes, the special containment unit that prevents a Jedi from using their powers beyond the confines of the device. We’re lucky that I always keep one secretly stored in the bowels of the Resolute, just for situations like this.”

“Commander…” Rex trailed off uncomfortably. He probably shouldn’t say anything but, he had to do something about this irritation in his heart and mind.

“Go ahead, Rex, speak freely.”

He removed his helmet, “I just want to say, thank you for not giving up on us. By all rights you could’ve just flown ahead to Coruscant and not given us another thought. If we had to fight Krell by ourselves, it would’ve gotten ugly.”

“Yes, but give yourselves some credit, you would’ve prevailed eventually. Quite a few men of the 501st would’ve had to die to Krell’s lightsabers before that could happen. Now you can begin to see why I’ve trained the ARC troopers as I’ve done this past year. Sora Bulq and Krell are the inevitable consequence when you take people who are not truly made for war and thrust them into it.”

“Krell, not made for war?” Rex asked with some astonishment.

“The concept is difficult for you to imagine, since all you've known since you were capable of coherent thought is training for war. Krell and the majority of natural born sentients in the galaxy, at a visceral, base level are very averse to putting themselves onto a battlefield. It’s the very reason the clone army exists after all. Only a small percentage of natural borns can function and even thrive on a battlefield where death can come for you at any moment. Being a Jedi and the training we endure can overcome this. Krell, for all his fearsome appearance, capability and those giant lightsabers of his, fears the loss of control a battlefield represents. He always hangs back in formation and only fights in defense of himself when pressed.”

Rex could see the commander’s point, but he just couldn’t imagine Krell actually being… fearful. “Commander, about what Krell said… I know you Jedi have all sorts of abilities, but was he telling the truth about foreseeing the Republic’s downfall?”

She sighed and turned to face him seriously, “Yes, Rex. He was telling the truth, he probably did see a future where the Jedi are defeated and the Republic falls.”

Despair clawed at Rex’s heart, “Then what are we even fighting and dying for then?”

She smiled at him softly and put a hand on his shoulder. Even though she was technically only here through a droid proxy, somehow that despair was lessened. “Note I said, a future, singular. Krell had his vision at some point in the beginning of the war and if there’s one thing that’s taught to all Jedi padawans, is that the future is always in motion. He was so preoccupied and in despair for what he saw, it became his downfall into the darkness. That same darkness clouded his vision and so it became impossible for him to see anything else. All his reasons and actions flowed from that, he saw it as self-preservation to betray the Republic. Future vision for Jedi is extraordinarily subjective, Rex. You’d do best to put Krell’s words out of your mind, live in the present, do your best with what you have.”

Rex nodded, feeling relieved. “Thank you, commander.”

“Now come, we have a base to defend.”

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A/N: No Palpatine, no anti-Jedi PR coup for you. The Jedi can clean up their own mess ;-) Hope you enjoyed what it's like for a 'normal' to see a lightsaber/Force battle. Have a good weekend and stay awesome.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 28

“What are you trying now?”

“I’m thinking H32 plus this latest module I made, this is an awesome mobile lab, by the way,” Bakuda said, looking around the interior of the large van disguised as a UPS delivery vehicle.

“Thank you,” I said dryly, folding my arms impatiently. We were both in one of the vehicles Henry had repurposed for mobile work in the field with regard to SCPs. It was mostly designed for analysis and containment, with a fair number of instruments, tools and fairly powerful computers, including a large containment drum that could hold a tactical nuke going off inside with no issue. It was the first demonstration of actual ontokinesis that Henry had performed on Earth Bet and by extension the van itself also had anomalous properties.

The biggest of which was the fact that it had an internal volume of nearly 1300 square feet, bright white steel walls, lighting and two long lab benches with chairs, upon which all the analysis instruments were spaced.

Bakuda held up her latest module in front of the 3D printer with an air of satisfaction and pride. She looked around the transcendental space for a moment, zoning out somewhat before shaking her head, “Anyway, this new creation of mine, gives the middle finger to time itself.”

“Explain,” I ordered pointedly.

“We’ve tried temperature, kinetics, transmutation, laser and radiation. You nixed the idea of the black hole bomb…”

“I like living on an intact planet, thank you.”

“And I told you, so do I. My calibration would be perfect, taking into account the motion of the planet, the required duration and area of effect… it’ll last-”

“No. How does this bomb affect time?”

“Stops it in a defined diameter.”

I couldn’t help the scowl that twisted my face. “A Gray Boy bomb?”

If there was ever a title of the most feared member of the Slaughterhouse 9, then it would not go to Jack Slash, Siberian or even Crawler. All of them would eventually just kill you horribly. Gray Boy, on the other hand, did not even allow his victims the escape of death.

A prepubescent boy in only looks thanks to a side-effect of his own power over time - Gray Boy could form stationary time loops in a set area that he defined. Which was seemingly limited to no larger than five feet across. He could trap his victims in them, walk into the loops and torture them, all the while fiddling with the duration of the loop.

The loops themselves were effectively infinite in duration and didn’t decay, unlike Clockblocker’s time freeze on distinct objects.     

The result was that the path of the Nine in the past was effectively immortalized by Grey Boy Monuments.

Victims trapped in time loops, endlessly suffering from wounds and tortures. These loops were usually covered in containment domes where possible. Allowing research to continue on possibly breaking them and so rescuing the tortured souls within.

The entire North American continent celebrated when Gray Boy was killed thanks to the actions of an even greater potential nightmare villain - Glaistig Uaine - who harvested his power and later confined herself to the Birdcage.

“No, he made loops,” Bakuda said with a shrug. “This is a firm stop in a defined area.”

“And this firm time stop, won’t cause the cartridge to be sent flying out into space or rip through the Earth?”

Bakuda scoffed and shook her head, “Please, I calibrated this properly. That’s kiddy stuff.”

“Escort.”

I turned to the mobile lab’s rear exit, which still looked like the rear doors of the van, bizarrely mounted in a wall a dozen feet to my right. Henry’s stony visage looked back at us.

Bakuda’s reaction to the sentient statue made me wish I’d had an x-ray camera. I hadn’t been able to see her face, but her aura spoke volumes to me. It was technically the first time she’d seen a ‘Case 53’ and her visceral fear at something that should be dead and stationary being alive was considerable. Her bluster and ego came roaring back quickly though.

“Yes, Henry?”

“He made it through Level 23.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Through a combination of my mastering him and Henry puzzling the mechanics of the SCP game, we had seen Alex through three levels without him failing or getting killed.

Level 21 had been a deadly version of the classic kids game Red Light Green Light, where he had to race against what Henry believed to be previous players of the SCP game - given that a number of the players were clearly wearing the orange jumpsuits of D-class personnel from the Foundation.

22 was a game where Alex had to ride on a classic Merry-go-round straight from a classic circus. The difference was, once again, there were manifestations of previous deceased players also riding. Everyone had to jump from plastic horse to another, trying to unsaddle the other players. Falling off a horse was naturally game over, as the only thing beneath the amusement park ride, was a seemingly infinite starry abyss. The last person seated won the game.

Alex had won thanks to my mastery effectively ‘inspiring’ him to perform at practically superhuman levels, another manifestation of my own evolving SCP power that Henry and I were going to study thoroughly after this. He hadn’t suddenly turned into a Brute, but he was performing at unnaturally high, consistent athletic levels - Olympian was a good way to describe it.

23 was a hunting game, where ghostly creatures tried to hunt Alex and he had to escape to a wooden shack 13 kilometers away. The shack contained the weapon that would destroy the creatures.

We had cheesed the game by Henry picking up Alex and running to the location.

Henry didn’t often stretch his ‘legs’ but he could run at a blistering pace, easily sprinting at 40 mph if he had a care to. The only reason he didn’t do it often was because he tore up the surfaces he ran on badly. 

This allowed me and Bakuda to work on the potential solution, whilst the FTF squad secured the area around the mobile lab, generally remaining on hand in case they could assist.

“What’s level 24?”

“He has to win a tug of war against three people.”

I frowned in suspicion, “At once, or separately?”

“Separately, but each of his opponents carry a pistol and if he loses, they shoot.”

“I see, how long?”

“The game gave him fifteen minutes of recuperation time. Corporal James is with him now, getting some water and food in him. Keeping Alex’s spirits up with guy talk, not that he really needs it when he’s got you.”

I nodded in understanding, “Tell me Henry. Has an SCP ever been trapped in a localized time stop field?”

“Not to my knowledge, Escort,” Henry said carefully. I knew he was holding back something, because of Bakuda’s presence, but I trusted he would mention it, if it was relevant.

“So what do you think would happen if we contained the SCP game cartridge in such a field?”

“If it works, with no unforeseen side effects, the best you could hope for… that the game is paused.”

Henry’s emphasis on the word sent my mind awhirl with the potential implications. He clearly didn’t think this would be a good thing, but there was very little that was inherently ‘good’ when it came to SCPs.

I turned to Bakuda, “Set the bomb and attach it to the cartridge. Ten second fuse, please.”

She nodded, plugged the two bomb modules together, before adding a digital timer fuse from her own supplies. All this was ziplocked right onto the game cartridge, before she put that in a 30cm diameter cardboard box that had previously contained some of the lab equipment.

“Once this goes off, anything in the box will be time locked. The box itself will become functionally indestructible until the time stop field dissipates.”

“How long will the field last?”

“I can set it to last from one day to a thousand years. With better parts, materials and energy sources I could go higher or be more precise, but that’s the best I can do.”

“Set it for one year, please.”

Bakuda nodded and stuck her hands into the box, fiddling with the bomb controls. “Done.”

I grabbed the box, tucked it under my arm, grabbed ‘15 and walked out of the mobile lab.

It was parked in the clearing which we had appropriated for the duration of the crisis, so I had just a few dozen feet to walk to where a thoroughly disheveled Alex was seated on the ground.

He was drinking from a water bottle and Corporal James was now standing guard over him, with his partial tinkertech assault weapon clipped to the front of his tactical vest.

“Corporal,” I greeted James with a warm smile.

“Mistress,” he nodded to me with a grin.

“How’s our player doing?” I asked, smiling down at Alex.

“Quite well, considering everything he’s gone through, mistress.”

Alex for his part, looked down into the ground between his knees, hiding his blush from me, equal parts embarrassment and arousal radiating from his aura.

A quick glance at the floating black board that only Henry, Alex and I could see, indicated we barely had nine minutes to have this conversation. Not a lot of time to decide the course of your own life.

“Alex, I need you to look at me and listen carefully.”

I could see his jaw flexing as he gritted his teeth, his aura spiking with self-directed anger. With determination he looked up, immediately meeting my eyes, consciously willing himself to not let his gaze wander. In any other circumstance, it would’ve been amusing, but I’d long since grown a thick skin to the staring and adoration of those who had been thralls.

“In the box, under my left arm we have the game cartridge that is responsible for everything you’ve been experiencing until now. Also inside it is a device, built by Bakuda here, that will in effect, hopefully, pause the game itself.”

He glanced at Bakuda for a moment, “Don’t know her… a Tinker?”

“Yes, she’s relatively new, but very capable. The dilemma we face is this. We can continue to play the game and try to aid you as best we can. The problem is there might be a game that completely nullifies anything we can do. You will be on your own and there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed. You’ve seen how difficult it is up to now and if this goes to Level 99…” I trailed off.

He nodded in understanding. “I’ll inevitably fail. The difficulty ramping up with only one life is inherently unfair.”

“The maker of the game, no doubt, intended it that way. If you die, you’ll become a part of the game itself, an NPC who’ll be used by the game to play against future players.”

He lowered his head into his own hands, denial and despair coloring his aura. “So you think ‘pausing’ will at least buy enough time to find a solution?”

“Maybe,” I said flatly. He abruptly looked up at me with a frown.      

“Maybe?”

“I’ll not sugarcoat this. The device may work or it may not. If it works… then as you are currently playing the game, you may be ‘paused’ as well.”

He shook his head, “That makes no sense, a player shouldn’t be paused-”

“This anomaly has no reason to make sense to us,” I interrupted him. “You are in effect, in a ‘game world’, that the anomaly has created around you. If we pause that world, then you will be paused with it. Currently, Bakuda’s device is set to pause the game for a year.”

He jumped to his feet and began breathing heavily, flexing his fists and then pacing back and forth. “So I’m going to lose a year of my life, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, it’ll buy us time to study and research the anomaly. Hopefully find a way to unravel it safely or pull you out of it.”

He stopped and locked eyes with me, “But there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed, is there?”

“No,” I shook my head. “A year might not be enough time. It may be ten years… or it could be utterly impossible.”

“So I could be ‘paused’ forever,” he laughed slightly hysterically. “I might as well be dead then. I’ll never see my family again…”

“At least you’ll be alive with a chance and not an enslaved NPC construct in a game that will never be played again.”

“What do you mean, won’t be played?”

“The cartridge is indestructible thus far to everything we’ve thrown at it. Therefore, it’ll be stored in a very secure and secret location while it’s studied.” I glanced at the game timer. “Do you understand the choice you have?”

He laughed and pulled at his hair, “Oh, what a choice… play the game, inevitably die and become an NPC or let you ‘pause’ me-”

“Which at least leaves the chance of you being rescued open.”

“Oh, and how hard are you going to work on that?!” he snapped.

“You are not the only person in this world in a shitty situation, Alex!” I snapped in turn. “There are other anomalies and more on the way. Every single one either has a victim or needs managing so that they don’t snap up more victims and create disaster. I can promise you this, Henry here will begin the work and in time it will become someone’s dedicated job to unravel the anomaly.”

Alex glared at the game timer, which showed he had less than five minutes to make the decision.

“Fuck,” his tone went from anger to despondence in a heartbeat. “Fine… uh, use the device, pause me, whatever. Sorry I-”

“Your anger is understandable,” I interrupted him. “Is there any message you want to give to your family?” I put down the box and reached for my phone.

“Yeah, uh…”

A quick swipe and I was recording, holding up the phone to bring him properly into view.

He stared breathlessly into the small lenses on the rear of the phone, suddenly at a loss for words. “Uh… sorry. I’m trying to think…” He swallowed thickly and tried to find some composure. “Mom, dad, don’t have much time… I’m going to be indisposed for some time. Escort will probably explain the details so I don’t have to bother with that… So, just know that I love you both and I hope I’ll see you again. Rachel, you’re the most annoying sister in the world and I know I sucked at showing it, but… you are the best and I love you…” He wiped his eyes. “What a mess I’m making of this. Probably my last message I’ll ever get to send you and I go weeping. Jim… you’re my best friend and I hope you’ll still be around when I get out of this mess. I still owe you that pizza. Who else? Oh, grandpa, grandma, sorry for getting to you last, my head isn’t exactly straight. I doubt I’ll ever see you again… thanks for everything, your wisdom, the fun times when you looked after me, when mom and dad couldn’t… I know eventually we’ll all be together again, so yeah… that’s all I can think of…”

I tapped the phone, ending the recording. “I’ll make sure it gets to them.”

Alex looked around nervously, stared at me for a bit then coughed, “So, anything I should do?”

I glanced inquiringly at Henry.

“Simply stand still as comfortably as possible, young man.”

Alex nodded and complied as best he could.

I kneeled down next to the box and tapped the very obvious red button on the bomb’s timer, which started the countdown with a beep.

“See you on the other side, Alex,” I said, giving him a hopeful smile.

3… 2… 1…

There was no sound of the bomb going off. Not surprising when any sound the bomb would’ve released would be trapped in a time stop field.

Bakuda and I leaned toward the box and looked down into it.

It was now late in the afternoon. The sun was low on the horizon to the west. Only the orange ambient reflected light, lit the box interior, and the small timer which was now frozen at 00:00.

Out of curiosity, I switched my phone to a flashlight app and shined it down, only to see that the light was not penetrating the time stop field. It simply reflected straight off it, as if there was now an invisible mirror effect.

“That worked at least,” Bakuda commented. “Be glad I put in that reflection, otherwise the field would just absorb light continuously for an entire year.”

“And then when the field goes down…”

“You’d effectively have a light photon explosion, releasing all that built up light energy at once in every direction.”

“Escort,” Henry was now kneeling down in front of Alex and examining him. “It’s as we feared. He’s frozen, as if he was in the time stop field as well.”

I walked over and carefully poked Alex in the chest. My finger didn’t feel soft clothing or the soft flesh beneath, but instead a solid unyielding surface. 

The bomb had also gone off at an unfortunate moment, catching him in the middle of a blink - his eyes half-closed.

I pushed forward with my mind web and found nothing - the feelers of my power simply sliding around the space Alex was occupying. There was no reading on his aura, except for the non-real colors encasing his body that I now knew meant something to do with temporal effects.

“Can he be moved?”

Henry shrugged, “I doubt it, but we can try.”

He shuffled forward on his knees and grabbed Alex carefully by the arms before lifting…

“Urgh,” Henry grunted with effort, his granite hands flexing before he quickly let go. “No, he’s stuck here.”

I groaned with annoyance. “Henry, call Armsmaster, please. At least this quarantine dome should be quick to put up. I have to get Bakuda out of here.”

88888888888888888888888

Bakuda and I materialized outside a small warehouse in the northern ABB areas of the city. Officially on maps, it was known as the Docks North-West. It was just a few blocks away from Winslow High and as such was within easy reach of my own house.

“A shipping company?” Bakuda asked after looking over the three floor building.

A faded sign of ‘River Shipping LLC’ was hung on the side of the red brick and mortar walls. “Out of business, but the building and the land is held by a shell company waiting for better times to hit the city. That’s not going to happen, but to make a long story short, this is an ABB location where you will be operating out of. Upper floor has a generously large apartment, whilst the rest of the building you can make use of in your Tinkering. Try not to blow it up, please.”

I reached into ‘15’s pouch and produced a wad of cash and handed it over.

“Starting money meant for you daily living expenses. You’ll receive your first ‘salary’ at the end of the week as an advance, and from then on monthly. You’re the only ABB cape in this northern territory, so you’ll be expected to respond to any incursion from the E88 in a timely manner. Naturally, we understand you’re a Tinker, so you need time to build yourself up to a satisfactory level. So until you’re ready, Oni Lee will still be responsible for counter-cape work up here. Tomorrow, you’ll receive a smartphone that’ll tie you into the street level intelligence network and a number of the local ABB lieutenants will be visiting. I suggest you both impress them and make them fear you thoroughly, but no killing or harming them.”

I gestured down the road. “That way is the local supermarket to fill your freezer and here are the keys to the place.” 

Bakuda regarded the small ring of keys I had handed over. “You realize I can’t exactly appear in public.”

I frowned in annoyance and reached into ‘15’s pouch, handing over an emergency half-face mask. “This is Brockton Bay, a rando cape going into a supermarket is generally not looked at twice. Also this is ABB territory and they’ll know to leave you alone.”

“Fine,” Bakuda grumped. “I’ll make do… and thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, you sure about not wanting to go visit the Red Light? It’s just the thing to blow off some steam.”

“Maybe another time,” Bakuda said, her aura coloring with apprehension and low level arousal just thinking about it.

“Well, it’ll definitely be interesting to work with you, Bakuda.”

I nodded at her and misted.

Shooting myself into the air, I turned west in the direction of Lord’s Park. 

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The next morning I found myself with a glass of water in hand and staring out at the misty expanses of the golf estate that surrounded Uber and Leet’s house and secret lair.

The smooth expanses of green grass and ranks of trees were a welcome break from the harsh lines of downtown and city in general. The house was also well insulated for sound and so I couldn’t even hear the distant drone of early morning traffic starting up.

Miss Militia had told me to find something that would soothe my mind and take the edge off constantly being awake.

Having sex was naturally the thing that did that for me, but it seemed surrounding myself with some kind of natural expanse - even one as tailored as a golf course - also seemed to do the trick. I had also tried some of the random meditation stuff I had found online, but the few things that actually did work only seemed to pull me straight into the sense of my own biology, which was not relaxing at all.

This combined with time allowed me to process my own sense of failure.

Intellectually, I understood that with many SCPs there was no winning. No good outcome where everyone rode off into the sunset having conquered the evil SCP.

The most charitable interpretation of yesterday I allowed myself was to call it a draw, but my own nature twisted it firmly into the loss category.

Alex had been mine, and now some twisted, mindless, programmed SCP had taken him away.

Unacceptable.

That was what I had been wrestling with through most of the evening, even as I rode both Uber and Leet into senseless puddles of pleasure, whilst making sure not to kill them.

That wasn’t the only reason I was here.

Leet was basically ready with the next version of the Snitch or Snitch 2.0 as he called it and I had to have what was going to be an unpleasant conversation with him.

Sure, my need for a Snitch was basically gone now, at least in how I had initially conceived it. I wouldn’t be needing it to help me make money, since I had taken over Fortress. Technically, I could even tap the ABB for funds through Kenta, but that felt wrong on so many levels.

Now the Snitch could be my overwatch whenever I was in the field and if I wanted to use it for a video to help build my online brand, that was still an option.

I heard the padding of feet trying to be sneaky behind me on the kitchen floor.

I took a sip from my glass of water, even as strong muscular arms enveloped me from behind.

The feel of pecs and abs on my back, a manhood engorged in a morning erection pushing lightly between my butt cheeks.

Uber caressed my own abs whilst his other hand grabbed a handful of my left breast, kneading it and lightly playing with a nipple.

I was standing mere inches away from the kitchen glass door. The nearest footpath leading past the house was about thirty feet further, anyone walking there and looking this way would get an eyeful.

“Good morning, Uber,” I tried to keep my voice as level as possible, but failed slightly as the delicious sensations washed through me.

“Morning,” he kissed me on the neck.

“Leet not up yet?”

“You know he considers getting up at nine to be early.”

A glance to my right at the microwave told me that it was nearly an hour and a half away.

I drained the rest of my glass and handed it back to Uber.

He smoothly incorporated getting it out of way as part of the lovemaking, trailing his kisses downward between my shoulder blades, his left hand releasing my breast only to trail downward as he knelt.

With the glass now safely on the tile floor a few feet away from us, his kisses were now alternating on each cheek of my butt for an entirely novel sensation, whilst his right hand snuck up between my legs.

His fingers expertly caressed my rapidly lubricating folds and his left arm arched around my hip. 

That hand found my clit and began attacking it.

“Fuuck,” I breathed as the pleasure shot through me, forcing my hands forward against the glass door to keep me balanced.

It wasn’t long after, that my juices were running down the inside of my legs and Uber, now a thorough expert on my own body’s tells, pushed three fingers inside me and began both pumping and curling his fingers. 

I growled upward at the ceiling and my toes curled as I tried my utmost to stave off the orgasm that was inevitable.

He eventually defeated my brinkmanship by a few simple caresses of my inner thighs.

I felt under no obligation to hold back any sound that came out of my mouth - I let go and a scream echoed through the kitchen as I came.

My chest was heaving, pulling in oxygen hard with excitement and I could only moan in annoyance as his expert fingers retreated from my core.

Uber stood up behind me again and pulled my arms away from the glass door. He gently but insistently pushed me forward until my face and breasts were squished against the glass.

He lightly secured my wrists with one hand in the small of my back, pulling on my hips so I presented a favorable angle for him.

In the next moment, he pushed himself in me with one slick movement.

“Ahhh, ah, ah yes, go… fuck me, go!” I snapped impatiently, turning my head so my left cheek rested against the cool glass that was rapidly heating up.

Uber needed no further encouragement and his hips began slapping into my butt as he pistoned in and out.

He growled and grunted with effort in the fight against his own pleasure.

My mind was swimming with the building feelings as I forgot about the fucked up world beyond the glass.

I didn’t care if someone happened to walk by.

Let them see. Let them gape. Let them react.

This was me just wanting to be lost in the infinite realm of my pleasure and power.

I flexed my inner muscles and Uber, with a final roar of effort, was defeated as he climaxed and came in me.

He lost the strength to keep my hands and I pulled them forward to support me against the glass.

My own climax came a few moments later.

I basked in the dual feeling of post coital bliss and the cool glass against me.

“Seriously? Couldn’t you have been a bit quieter?” Leet grumbled as he practically zombie-walked down the stairs, wearing only a pajama bottom and slops.

“Sorry bro, got a bit enthusiastic,” Uber shrugged, making no move to pull himself out of me. “But it got you out of bed and Escort has something important to tell us today.”

That was probably my queue and unfortunately Uber couldn’t safely pull off a Kenta and carry me around, so I relaxed my vaginal muscles and straightened.

Uber smoothly slid out of me and hurried over to a towel he brought, to wipe off my juices from himself. 

I turned around and swiftly found a seat at one of the barstools at the kitchen counter as Leet prepared a simple breakfast of corn flakes, milk and coffee.

Uber to my inner delight, stayed nude and took a seat next to me.

We waited patiently for Leet as he started eating and drinking from his mug. He seemed alert and booted up enough for this conversation when he was halfway through his coffee.

“Okay, what ya got?” Leet shoved another spoon full of flakes into his mouth.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table. The view of my slightly dangling breasts caught his eyes immediately, but he quickly looked up into my serious eyes.

“You are in a bit of a pickle with your power, Leet. And unfortunately, you’re not going to like my results. This fix is possibly quite easy in theory, but it’s going be hard for you.”

“But there is a fix?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes. However, to begin explaining this I’m going to have to pull a bit of the wool from both your eyes,” I gave a significant look at Uber to impress the gravity of what was going to happen.

“What do you mean?” he asked wearily.

“Have neither of you asked yourselves just what your powers actually are in this physical universe? Or powers in general? Do you think that the ability for Legend to shoot lasers that can wipe out city blocks comes from him or even a tiny little structure in his brain?”

Both men blinked as I began clawing away at the memetic programming.

“No?” Leet frowned into his coffee.

“Precisely. So if the source of parahuman power is not in the human body, where is it?”

Leet put down the mug, “You’re saying it’s actually… outside us.”

“Yes, outside and a few dimensions over in the nth direction. The corona pollentia is simply just the conduit and manager for the expression of the power in Earth Bet. The actual ‘power’ sits on another nearby Earth, where it has a physical structure and the components that make it work.”

Uber scoffed, “This is just Passenger Theory, that’s been debunked so hard-”

“By whom?” I retorted.

“By… uh, by- by- what’s his name? C’mon bro, help me out.”

Leet stayed silent and just frowned into his flakes before meeting my eyes again. “There’s various academics around the world and research institutions that have disproved it.”

I chuckled and smiled at him, “Do you know how easy it is to make any university or research institute dance to your tune? I can call up quite a few and ask them to research something for me and I’d like an in-person meeting. Now, imagine I’m a very persuasive Thinker or a Master. Their rep meets me and I impress on them the need for the research to show the conclusion I want. Money also helps grease the wheels and within a few weeks, a paper is published with exactly what I want the world to see and conclude. Now you’ll say that peer review should stop that, but I’ve already spent that time going to other think tanks and institutions, Mastering them and persuading them to support that view.

I slammed my hand down on the counter, “Bam, with less than a month of effort and a few million dollars, I’ve changed the way parahuman powers are perceived by academia. With further effort, among certain government circles, let’s say a compromised PRT, they pick up and run with it. Now I’ve made a snowball of bullshit that runs down the hill and Joe Public that researches things on the Internet will also internalize it.

“In this case, it’s the fact that Passenger Theory is bullshit, which was a theory based on reasonable empirical observations, common sense and especially when Professor Haywire made his portals. Only now our oh so convenient research says it’s impossible. Then if there’s scientific resistance, it takes but a few rounds of buying contrary research for those naysayers to become derided, isolated and even laughed out of the scientific community. Everyone else sees that and it becomes easier to play along, even though deep in their minds they know otherwise - this is their livelihoods on the line after all.”

Both men looked slightly dazed at the moment, which I couldn’t blame them for. I probably looked exactly the same when Henry had ripped away the memetic programming from me.

“This… this can’t be right, can it be that easy?” Leet shook his head.

Uber had his eyes closed and judging from how his aura was shifting and the pulses going through the interdimensional portal linked to his brain, I was probably watching him shift skill sets in real time.

“Normally it wouldn’t be,” said Uber. “You’d need hundreds of key players in the right places, eventually it would leak out. But as Escort said, the right Thinker or Master combination would make it much easier.”

“But what about Watchdog?” Leet pointed out.

“Who watches the watchers, bro. If WEDGDG is also in on crushing the idea of Passenger Theory then they become part of the problem. Also think about how some capes might react to the idea that there’s this interdimensional thing attached to our brains - yes, it lets us do cool shit or bad shit, but what else is it doing that we don’t know about? That uncertainty by itself will incentivize the Protectorate to suppress it, because they need parahuman recruits for the Endbringers and policing in general. Anything that would threaten that has to go.”

“So you see, the entire system built since the emergence of parahumans is to herd and channel us into the roles of hero, villain, rogue, keeps us distracted and busy. We’re so busy carving our little underworld fiefdoms in cities that we can’t stop and think about the true problems,” I said, leaning back into my chair. “I will warn you now, that besides the PRT, Protectorate and other interest groups, there is the group that started it all. The only reason we can talk at all about this without getting a surprise lead injection, is because of Brockton’s interdimensional anomaly problem. The Thinker working for them is that powerful and she works on a global scale, think of her as the Legend or Eidolon of Thinkers.”

“She? You’ve seen her?” Uber asked as he tried to digest the idea of a Thinker cape on that level.

“No, but I’ve talked to others who have.” Both Coil and Kenta had encountered the Bogeyman of the cape world, the Woman with the Fedora. In Kenta’s case, she had played a pivotal role at a key moment in his life, which was what had caused him to Trigger in the first place. Coil had met her when she came to deliver the news that Cauldron would not interfere with any of his operations in Brockton. “Suffice it to say, if you ever see a pale skinned woman, black hair, shoulder length, dressed in a tailored black suit, tie and a fedora. You do not do a thing, you don’t attack her or even run away from her. Let her do her thing and pray she’s not there for you, because otherwise, you’re fucked.”

“Now, I’m telling you this to give context, but there is a greater reason, Leet. We circle back to the problem of your power. Now imagine your Tinker power, sitting there on another Earth in dimension nth, what do you suppose it actually looks like?”

Leet looked at his now empty cup of coffee and dearly wished it wasn’t. “I- I can’t… is it a computer? A database? I mean I can build all this stuff…”

“If it’s a computer, then it has an operating system, rules, and programming,” I continued. “Do you think any human hand built it?”

“Maybe, if there was a sufficiently advanced human civilization among the dimensions.”

“Fair point, but then explain the other powers. What do you think Lung’s power looks like in that other dimension?”

Leet and Uber spent a while trying that one before both looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No, got nothing.”

“Yeah, same.”

“So do you think your powers are still just a computer system? How big or small do you imagine it to be? What power requirements would it have?”

“Thinking about what Eidolon or Legend can do, we’re talking at least the entire power generation of our Earth, perhaps more,” Uber theorized.

“For some of that exotic stuff Eidolon dishes out; baryon beams, singularity generation… more like a few days of the entire solar output that the sun releases,” Leet argued in turn.

“And imagine the strength of computer or intelligence, needed to regulate that down to a human scale,” I said idly.

The two men looked at each other then to me like I had grown an extra head. “Escort… you’re suggesting our powers are aware? Intelligent?”

“To a certain degree, yes. At what point, if you continue to advance a computer’s strength and sophistication, does it reach the point where you can’t tell the difference between the machine and what we conventionally consider an intelligent thinking being.”

“Technological singularity,” Leet nodded in understanding.

At that moment, the sheer starkness between what I had been before my own ‘empowerment’ and now hit me like a truck. All I had read and studied in the evenings to pass the time, everything I had talked about to Henry.

The Taylor I had been before and the one I was now - never mind my SCP-ness, powers, side-effects, nudity, the sex and the circles I walked in now - in mind and knowledge I was so much more.

Was I perhaps heading toward my own kind of singularity?

“So now imagine, what directives and even preferences would your power have Leet? Think of every parahuman in the world and what do you see? Do you ever see us sitting on our laurels and not use our power?”

“No,” he shook his head, looking disturbed.

“Precisely, there’s institutional knowledge in the PRT that’s downplayed and never publicly admitted to, that when parahumans try to suppress power usage because it would be inconvenient or too disruptive to their current lives, that very bad things happen. The power will spur the parahuman with either greater incentives or begin to induce negative consequences.”

“Negative consequences, such as locking off tech trees and making my stuff fail, that’s what you’re getting at,” Leet said hotly. “I’m not suppressing my power!”

“No, you’re not, but I think your power is not really impressed or patient enough to deal with the human scientific method.” That was the final conclusion that both Henry and I had reached. “Something which became apparent as a common thread through all of your notes. I’ve also recently had the opportunity to watch a new Tinker at work, and it only affirmed my conclusion.”

“What utter bullshit!” Leet swiped his bowl aside in his anger, where it clattered to the floor and burst into pieces. “After all this time and all of your effort, you come to me with this?!”

I let the anger wash over me. “I invite you to try Tinkering, but instead of pushing yourself through careful, methodical scientific method… just do it. Let go, Leet. In fact, build something in the tech tree that you think is locked off to you, free wheel it. Don’t think, do.”

“Bullshit, bull, bull, bull!”

He burst out of his chair and stomped off out of the kitchen, trailing figurative smoke out of his ears.

I glanced at Uber and noted he was rather subdued and thoughtful.

“And what do you think?” I prodded him.

“It’s a… possibility, I’ll admit. You don’t know this but, in the early days some of the ideas he had began to outright scare him. His first biotinker project… a virus that would’ve altered the human genome to end aging. He managed to stop himself when he began running projections on just how it would’ve completely destabilized the world. Can you imagine it?” he asked me.

“End the mortuary industry, end retirement, no more inheritance. We’d need to start building in time limits into how long you could occupy every job. The rich and powerful would stay that way until they are actually killed or die from terminal illness, since the great equalizer of death wouldn’t happen otherwise. I could go on, but I get the picture.”

“Now can you understand his anger?”

“I told him that the very methods and rules he adopted for himself is what’s caused his power to essentially rebel against him.”

“He’s a Free Tinker, Escort. He can build things you wouldn’t believe or imagine, things he never put to paper in the notes he gave you, because they were that dangerous. If it ever came out that he’s capable of that kind of tinker tech, the best he could hope for is some nameless deep dungeon that the PRT will stick him in to produce tech for them. A rather unintentional side-effect of the problems with his Tinker power, is that it’s turned into a shield that protects from those who would exploit him.”

An interesting perspective that I hadn’t considered.

“Well, I think I’ll make tracks,” I stood and stretched out the kinks in my back from sitting. “I trust this hasn’t made him reconsider our deal. I’m in no hurry to take delivery of the new Snitch-”

Uber’s eyes couldn’t help their downward path before he looked up, “Yeah, our deal is solid unless you end up betraying us. Nothing in the agreement said that we’d have to like what we were gonna hear. When you’re back here in two days, it’ll be waiting for you. Leet has to explain its specs and he’s in no mood for it at the moment.”

“Good, see you two later then,” I grabbed ‘15 and misted.

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My feet materialized on the brown dead grass of my backyard.

I had barely taken a single step towards the kitchen door when I was hit with the tempting, promising smell of sex… the sweet tanginess of pre-cum to be specific.

Without even thinking about it, my mind web went to full extension and took in my entire house, the neighbors on either side and behind me.

When I spotted and pinpointed the increasing pleasure and sexual energy as coming from my former bedroom, I misted immediately and reappeared there.

Just in time to witness a completely naked Theo reach the crescendo of pleasuring himself.

Horror washed over me as four entire ropes of cum were squirted out of Theo’s above average manhood and were wasted on the towel he had draped on the bed.

His eyes were closed and his sigh of post-release pleasure reached my ears next, then the smell of that nectar blasted my nostrils.

It took every ounce of willpower I had, not to just swoop down, master him and clamp down with my mouth on that manhood to save the last two less vigorous squirts of semen.

I forced myself to stand there and focused on the slight pain I had, squeezing the hard iron of ‘15 in my right hand, then pushed my hair out of my face so my glowering face could make a suitable impression.

“Ah yes,” Theo mumbled, releasing his shrinking manhood and leaning back with eyes still closed, face to the ceiling.

My eyes next caught the baby monitor on the bed stand and that he had the decency not to masturbate with Aster in the room. She was currently in her cot in the baby room, being amused with a variety of baby safe toys.

“Ahhh! What the fuck!”

His satisfying scream of fright blasted the room and he backed up against the headboard frantically and staring at me with gaping mouth and wide eyes. His breathing quickened and he didn’t even think to try to use his power in preemptive defense - he could’ve shoved his hands into the wooden headboard and manifested large hands out of the floor to try to grab me… I made a mental note to work on that in the next training session.

The long deathly silence and my glaring at him stretched out into a very long moment.

“The next time…!” I paused my speech, gritting my teeth and closing my eyes to get myself back into some coherent control. I opened them when I felt successful. “The next time you want to jerk yourself off in this house, Theo… tell me.”

He blinked in surprise, his mouth twitching, “Wh- wh- what?”

“When… you… want… to jerk off… tell me,” I said with a slow enunciation of each word.

“Wh- what?”

I took a deep calming breath. He was in a post-coital state, frightened out of his wits and nothing would be sinking in at the moment. My eyes met his and I softened my gaze, stance and leaned casually against ‘15 so I wouldn’t present such a frightful picture.

“An addendum to the house rules Theo. If you want to jerk off, don’t. Come find me and I’ll give you a blowjob anytime that’s practical. I also apologize for scaring you and bursting in on you like that. Given that you’re now a member of this household and haven’t been behaving like an asshole, I should also explain something when you’re feeling more coherent. Clean up and I’ll speak to you in the kitchen.”

I turned around and left the room.

It took nearly a full quarter of an hour before I heard tentative steps on the staircase.

I was seated at the kitchen table nursing a glass of water like it was alcohol and rather wishing it was something strong. That was another interesting thought, could I ingest any alcoholic drink? Legally, I’d have to wait until I was 21, but that was easy to get around in Brockton. It’d definitely be an experiment that had to be done with supervision though.

A now dressed Theo, in a jeans and black shirt combo, sat down delicately in the seat across from me and he looked ready to bolt judging by his aura, even if he tried his best to hide the frightened body language.

My eyes met his seriously, “Yes, I said that, Theo. You have the need, find me.”

He gaped a bit, “But, I thought you’re a working girl… that I’d have to pay-”

“Theo, have you seen me eat anything in this house?” I interrupted him.

He frowned, thinking a bit, “No, you just… drink water… I thought you always ate before coming home.”

I giggled in amusement, “Technically, you’re correct. A consequence of my power… I can only eat semen and…” I pointed to the glass, “drink water.”

He blinked with astonishment, mouth gaping again. “Ser- seriously?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “So when you jerked off and your ejaculate landed on the towel… Let’s imagine someone taking your favorite food and drink in the whole world and throwing it on the dirty ground in front of you. How would you react?”

He thought about it and eventually nodded, “Yeah, I’d… be quite unhappy.”

Silence fell on us as he processed that and eventually he looked at me, eyes flicking downward briefly, “So if I said I-” he coughed nervously, shudders running down his back. “If I said I wanted a blowjob now-”

“I’d climb underneath this table and give you one as you sit there,” I shrugged.

He opened his mouth to probably outright ask, when my phone rang.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance. Typical, and got up to take the phone out of ‘15s pouch.

A brief look at the screen and I swiped to answer. “Yes, dad?”

Theo cringed and winced reflexively.

“Hey, Little Owl, at work currently.” Meaning he was at the DWU. Dad had finally given his one month notice as there were only so many hours in a day, between Fortress as CEO and his future parahuman activities, he had to start prioritizing. “Just calling to let you know that later this afternoon, the PRT are coming for a visit, escorting a recovered Mrs. Anders for a little meet-and-greet.”

My brain hiccupped for a moment. “I trust they’ve taken precautions?”

“Yes, but she will be on her best behavior, they’ve ensured that.”

Oh, so probably Armsmaster had figured out a gadget that would stop Purity from potentially grabbing her baby daughter, flying away and blasting the house to scrap in her wake.

“Okay, thanks for the warning, dad. We’ll get the house in order.”

“Good. I’m sorry things didn’t go well yesterday. You can’t win them all, dear.”

“Yeah, just wish it was otherwise.”

“Okay, well, I have to get back to it. See you then. Love you.”

“Love you too, bye dad.”

I returned the phone to its pouch and sat back down.

Theo was brimming with curiosity, frustration, surrounded by a core of determination. “The PRT is coming?”

Great, now I was left with the dilemma. Tell him now that his step-mother was coming for a visit and probably shatter that determination to ask me for a blowjob or put off that conversation just a bit.

I definitely could use a morning pick-me-up.  

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 No new SCPs.

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A/N: So close Theo, :-) Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend, folks. As always, stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 95

“How many prisoners did we capture?”

“Just under four hundred, sir,” Rex answered as he looked around the command center of the Umbaran air base.

Krell was carefully walking around the space, inspecting the bodies of the umbarans and occasionally pushing them out of the way with a massive foot. “So few? A base like this should have thousands manning it.”

“The majority escaped through underground tunnels in the direction of the capital, when it became obvious that they wouldn’t be able to hold the base. They then collapsed the tunnels behind them.”

“Unfortunate,” Krell commented and gestured to the dead bodies. “It seems the Umbarans are not as united as was believed.”

“Yes sir. There are signs of extensive sabotage that happened just as our attack began in other areas of the base. Nothing destructive, but extensive computer hacking was done to disable various base systems.”

“Have all the base security systems reconfigured and locked down, Captain Rex. The enemy will want this base back and I want it under our complete control.”

“Thankfully there isn’t much to do on that front, sir. The Republic loyalists left the base practically gift wrapped for us, my men are already reporting that the systems are responding to them.”

“Good, detail some men to get rid of the bodies,” Krell turned his back and looked out the large transparisteel windows which gave a good view of the base and the dark valley beyond. The various light emitting plants and trees being the only indication of the terrain.

The chirping of Krell’s comlink had the Jedi lift one of his arms and a full body holo of General Kenobi appeared. 

“Congratulations on your capture of the Umbaran air base, general.”

“There will be time for celebration when we’ve taken that capital, General Kenobi.”

“That will not be an easy task. We’re currently in an effective siege. The moment we amass forces for a ground assault, the Umbarans detect it and start pelting the area with their long range missiles. Now that we have greater control of the sky we can at least use our fighters to perform interception of the missiles. So our lines around the city are holding but that’s all they are doing.”

“Are these missiles coming from any specific part of the capital?” Krell asked.

“No, they are evenly dispersed throughout the city. It seems logical given what we’ve witnessed so far that the umbarans have an extensive underground defensive tunnel network. This allows them to keep the launchers supplied, preventing us from doing anything about it. However, Resolute’s Intel detachment, in the brief window where our scans managed to cut through their jamming, managed to find this.”

A holo of the capital appeared and in the north-west of the city, a seemingly ordinary set of Umbaran buildings were highlighted as the holo zoomed in. Rex had no clue about architecture, but he generally knew when he was looking at a civilian structure. The Umbarans on the other hand, didn’t seem to subscribe to any delineation in their buildings. The entire city had the architecture of their air base; rounded oval buildings, with tall spiked spires and not a single square or rectangular structure in sight.

“The energy signatures coming from here matches residual plasma traces recorded in the aftermath of missile attacks. The strength of the signature leads us to conclude that we are looking at the local factory that makes these missiles.”

“So if we take that out, they’ll face the dilemma of using up a dwindling resource,” Rex said with a grin. “What about launching a special operation to destroy it? Aren’t the Blades available?”

“They’re currently tasked with recon duties, trying to find a weakness in the city’s defensive perimeter-” The holo began flickering, which stabilized after a few moments. “Damn, the Umbaran jamming is trying to find our frequency.”

“We’ll just have to attack the capital regardless of the missiles,” Krell shook his head. “We can’t afford to let this siege continue, general. We’ll break through-”

The holo flickered even more severely and promptly vanished.

Krell tapped his comlink and a small diagnostic screen appeared above his arm. “No signal. They’ve managed to jam our communications.” He stared at Rex severely. “We’re on our own, captain.”

“Understood, sir. What are your orders?”

“I want supply checks of the entire battalion. If we’re short of anything, scrounge for weapons and supplies from this base. Begin a watch rotation, I don’t want any possible insurgency attacks on our position. Finally, I want to be ready to begin our attack in twelve hours, so get your troops some rack time.”

“Thank you, sir. Should I continue trying to contact General Kenobi? It would be beneficial if we could coordinate our attack.”

“General Kenobi has his hands full. As do we. In any other situation, a dual pronged simultaneous attack would be useful, but we can’t communicate and until that jamming is lifted, that won’t change. We need to hit the enemy in our sector with everything we have, to break through and lift this siege.”

Rex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Didn’t Krell have a single better tactic in his head than a straight forward assault? “Sir, we’d be marching into a blast zone.”

They felt the rumble of an explosion shuddering through the structure of the tower.

He rushed forward to the window, just in time to catch the tail end of two explosions that had hit near the base’s defensive perimeter. Thankfully the force fields had absorbed the worst of it.

“More insurgents trying to get through,” Krell commented grimly, he then gave Rex a flinty look. “I realize you haven’t agreed with all my strategies, captain. However, you are smart and loyal enough to obey my orders. Now prep those troops and carry out your assignments.”

Rex could only salute, “Yes, sir.”

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To say that Fives was unhappy with the orders from General Krell was an understatement.

Rex found his second in command inside one of the underground starfighter hangars, where he and a number of other ARC troopers were busy learning and finishing the work already done on the six craft currently sitting in this bay. It greatly helped that they had apparently found a user and maintenance manual in the local base computers.

“Those missiles have the yield of ground burst proton torpedoes, at least six kilotons,” Fives pointed out incredulously. “We won’t even make it to the city outskirts. Is Krell delusional? Does he have a tactical theater shield somewhere that he’s not telling us about?”

“I’ve tried to reason with him, Fives. What else can I do? Those are the orders.”

“Great,” Lieutenant Jesse commented from his own seat behind an umbaran holo computer panel, where his hands were rapidly tapping and swishing on the interface. “Another suicide mission. Even if the missiles didn’t get us, their perimeter forts surely will.”

“It seems to me that the general has got something against clones,” Hardcase commented from inside the guts of a starfighter.

“I think you’re all overreacting,” Sergeant Rime rolled his eyes. “General Krell’s record speaks for itself. Do you really think he doesn’t care if he loses men? Without us, he’d find it a bit difficult to take that capital.”

Hardcase folded his arms, “I think his desire for victory has blinded him to the fact that there are lives at stake. I’ve never seen a general with these kinds of casualty figures in his record.”

“He’s definitely not acting like any of the other Jedi,” Fives slammed his fist against the landing strut of the starfighter he was leaning against. “He has no respect for us.”

This was going into dangerous territory and Rex had to stop this kind of talk. “Listen. I don’t agree with him either, but I don’t have a better plan to argue my case.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place, captain,” Fives scratched his short beard. “I’ve been thinking it’d be such a shame to just let these starfighters sit here and gather dust. We can’t rely on the Umbarans to have a tiff with each other each time we run into their artillery walkers. I’ve looked into the specs of their guns and armament. They’d be just the ticket if we run into more enemy armor, they’d also be perfect for taking out that munitions factory and a few perimeter forts. Open us a chink in the capital’s armor.”

Rex shook his head, “Surely the umbarans in the city will realize by now that we have this air base. They’ll know to not just trust every Zenuas fighter they see flying overhead from our direction.”

“And normally you’d be correct,” Fives smirked with a satisfied smile and slapped Hardcase’s shoulder pauldron. “This clever man managed to slice the latest Umbaran access codes from the enemy defense network.”

“Surely they would’ve also cut the air base from that,” Rex reasonably pointed out.

“Oh they did, but I managed to reconnect on the sly,” Hardcase smiled with satisfaction. “They don’t even know. As far as the network is concerned, our access is from a new umbaran flight squadron that they created in the defense of the city, with authorization from a valiant hero of the Umbaran militia, whose identity codes I usurped and edited from one of the high ranking prisoners we have.”

Rex frowned at the heavily tattooed ARC trooper, “I didn’t realize you were such a slicer, Hardcase.”

“It’s what I do in my down time,” he shrugged. “Only now that I really have the first time to make use of it in the field.”

“So with those codes, their fighters and if we’re sneaky about our course, we can fly these fighters right over the capital, bomb that munitions factory and perimeter fort in one swoop. We therefore stop their missile supplies from being refreshed and create a path for our troops. With these fighters on overwatch, we can also intercept any missiles that target the 501st.”

Rex sighed, “That’s certainly better than just marching straight into enemy fire.”

“See, what are second in commands for,” Fives gestured with arms spread genially.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Rex grumbled, pointing a finger at Fives. “I’ll bring this plan to the general. Don’t work too long in this hanger. If you’re going to do this you need to be in top form, so get to your bunks in two hours. That’s an order.”

“Fine,” Fives shrugged.

“So have you figured out who is going to fly these contraptions yet?”

“We’ve found the Umbaran simulator programs, we’ll start training the instant after we take some rack time.”

“Good, I don’t want this to be a suicide run. You hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

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Anakin had finally relented on getting some rest and dealing with his urgent bodily functions that needed attending. Seeing the speed with which he had jumped off the interface chair was rather amusing.

Now I was in control of the holodroid, walking around the Umbaran airbase with the holoshell of a clone trooper. If any other trooper asked or even scanned me, they’d find that I was CT-4659 ‘Recluse’, with the rank of sergeant. It was an identity I had inserted into the 501st legion register just for occasions such as this. Of course, I could just use the Force on any trooper and in general to remain unseen and blend into the background, but my focus was mostly on stealth in the Force at the moment, to remain hidden from Krell.

With the orders from Rex to secure the base and its systems it allowed the perfect excuse for me to dig my fingers into any umbaran system, subtly helping the ARC troopers crack the network again with the aid of R2’s deft cyber touch. It also let me gain digital snapshots of certain select technologies I was interested in sending back to MandalMotors and my thinktank for development.

Whilst we had made considerable strides in holographic interfaces and haptics, the Umbaran stuff was on another level, easily a full generation ahead in comparison.

The maneuverability of the Zenuas fighter was definitely something I also wanted for the next generation of Fang fighter, so I made a scan and interfaced directly with one. The weapons on it were interesting and the synthetic plasma weapons were definitely an interesting avenue of research. The energized plasma ‘torpedoes’ that the fighter used for anti-ship work was also of considerable interest since the stuff had a disintegration after effect that spilled over and had a ‘damage over time’ to whatever ship it hit.

I imagined they would be just the thing to efficiently burn through biological hulls of Yuuzhan Vong capital ships, if you could get it around the dovin basal generated singularities they used as shields.

My route carried me to the base's main reactors next and while there was nothing truly groundbreaking about the fusion systems themselves, they did feature a level of compactness for their rated output that definitely merited study. It explained the strength of the shielding around the cockpit bubbles of the Zenuas and the weapons on it.

I gave a small grin as I studied the computer readouts of the reactor, sensing a familiar presence entering the reactor room.

“Sergeant?”

I turned to give Rex a casual salute, “Captain.”

“What are you doing here… Recluse?” he asked.

“Making sure the reactors aren’t going to fail on us. Their automation is very good, but they run somewhat hot in comparison to ours and I can imagine a runaway or even the fusion bottle failing if there isn’t someone watching for it.”

My fingers tapped on the large control panel pointedly, adjusting the fuel flow down a few percentage points, when the automated system had started lagging in compensating for it.

“Losing power would be rather disastrous,” Rex pulled off his helmet and stared into the banks of glowing fusion bottles. “Have you had any sleep, sergeant?”

“No, sir. I’m a Sapper and a techie at heart, I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway with an unknown fusion plant near me that I didn’t make sure was safe for us and the troops.”

“Yes, well. Thanks for that, sergeant. I’m just doing the rounds and checking in on everyone. We’re attacking the capital in ten hours, so I want everyone with full bellies and completely rested.”

“So Krell is sending us into the meat grinder again,” I commented flatly. “Only this time it’s more of an energetic plasma disintegrator if we want to get technical.”

“Those are our orders, sergeant.”

“True. There isn’t a battle we’ve fought so far in the war where carrying out our orders hasn’t led to many of our brothers dying. However, this is different and you know it, captain.”

Rex’s mouth visibly flattened and his eyes smoldered in anger. “It’s not like I can just disobey. From day one, ever since we could form a coherent thought after we came out of those clone tubes… to obey orders from our superiors have been hammered into our skulls.”

“Again, true. But orders have another quality, captain. They must be within the regs and serve the Republic. Does it serve the Republic to have the 501st wiped out to the last man?”

“If it achieves the mission and objective,” Rex answered immediately.

“And will grinding our armor and skulls pointlessly against a perimeter fort and aerial bombardment achieve anything?”

Rex sighed, his shoulder slumping, “No, I guess you have a point, sergeant.”

“Ah ha, there we go,” I said with a smile, tapping the holoboard with a flourish. “Reactor should be stable for fifteen hours without monitoring.” I turned and gave Rex a salute. “If you’ll excuse me, captain. There’s a rack with my name on it.”

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I pretended to sleep in the Umbaran barracks for one hour before feigning frustration and getting up.

My destination this time was the starfighter hangars.

It was here that I saw the progress Fives, Jesse and Hardcase had made since I had remotely pointed them to the fighter user manuals.

It was rather impressive. They had successfully serviced and rearmed the fighters, but it was clear that actually flying the thing was the problem. The flight controls were not intuitive at all and were as ‘alien’ as the Umbaran mindset.

“Damn it,” cursed Hardcase from within the pilot bubble, as the simulation flashed red.

“Easy on your finger movements, Hardcase,” Fives remonstrated his fellow clone from his own fighter. “You just fired a plasma missile before you even took off. If that had been the real thing, you’d have blown a hole the size of a Juggernaut tank inside the building.”

“Well, you could barely even fly and you were constantly upside down!”

“Listen brothers, we’re not going to get anything done with you two bickering at each other like this,” Jesse pointed out reasonably. “Reset the simulation and try again.”

The three pilot bubbles returned to their normal blue and the three men carefully stuck their hands into the holo control spheres, careful to keep their hands in a ‘neutral’ position. Then they moved the spheres up slowly before pushing forward.

So far so good, it seemed. They had at least taken off without blowing themselves up accidentally. They even made it out the hangar doors, but then Jesse ended up firing the chin turret by accident and in his frantic efforts to make it stop, ended up destabilizing his own flight, crashing straight into Hardcase’s fighter, who was flying to his starboard in formation.

“Oh come on!” Hardcase complained.

“Urgh, I have a whole new respect for flyboys,” Fives grumbled, tapping the controls to reset the simulation.

Interestingly, at this rate, they were going to launch their mission in five hours, hopped up on stims to keep them going. The probability line showed they would abandon their secondary objective to destroy a perimeter fort and that was not good.

I stepped out of the blind spot behind the fighters and walked up to the main diagnostic terminal next to the row of fighters. “Hey everyone. Things are going well?”

Fives and the other two were naturally weary of me. “Sergeant… sorry, what was your name?”

“Recluse,” I said, stepping up to the panel and beginning to tap commands into it. My holoshell was now without a helmet and was showing a typical Jango Fett face and voice, but with a stylized cog tattooed onto the right cheek. “And you can relax, I’m not about to report you. I bet you the whole 501st would be in here helping if they knew. But then Krell would too, so I don’t blame you. Now, I see you’re trying to fly these fancy contraptions…”

“Wait, how did you even know about this?” Fives asked with suspicion.

“Well, I was part of the detail who worked on the internal security and would you know that the umbarans even have surveillance in their barracks, both visual and audio?”

Fives groaned, “Seriously? Who else knows?”

“Just me. You’re lucky I was alone when I finally figured that system out. Now I figure you three need a sapper’s steady hand to fly these things.” I tapped the console in front of me and brought up the pilot manual, displaying the instructions on flight and weapon controls into a larger format. Two giant holographic Umbaran hands now hovered in front of the three ‘pilots’.

“We looked at this already, sergeant.”

“Yes, but we all know a manual can never tell you the whole story. The difference between theory and practical reality. The small tricks and nuance of taking that perfect shot or in this case, flying this fighter. I looked at your simulations and it seems to me that you are struggling to make the translation from one gesture or action to the next, without stumbling into another that you don’t want to do but because the fighter’s computer is just following orders…”

“It’ll move or fire when we don’t want it to, because our emotions are getting in the way of our actions,” Jesse concluded.

“So there’s your first task, whatever gesture you make, if you’re ever unsure, return to the neutral one. This way at least you won’t make a blunder like that.” I turned around and mimicked the posture of flying in the bubble cockpit. “Let’s try going through a typical takeoff sequence and find the best way to transition between gestures…”

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Fives had to admit, he had doubts about Sergeant Recluse, but there was no denying what a help the brother had been.   

In just an hour of simulation training, they were consistently taking off, flying in formation without crashing into one another and were even starting to make sense of the Umbaran interfaces. The sergeant had even managed to rig a translation program into Aurabesh characters, which was a big help as the Zenuas fighter was smart enough to even make suggestions to them. It wasn’t on the level of a droid, but had something the sergeant called heuristic matrix learning. Each fighter actually adapted over time to its pilot and the longer someone trained in it, the better responses it gave.

The finger and hand gestures for firing the weapons of the fighter were rather strange and Fives’ hands were aching from all the repetitive practice they had been doing.

He had only managed to get in three hours of actual sleep when his eyes opened in the barracks and he immediately felt the stiffness in the small muscles between the bones in his hands.

In retrospect he was glad that Recluse had managed to convince them to get some actual sleep after the training session.

After two battles and the long walk to the air base, combined with the training; stims had been the only thing keeping them going, but now he at least felt some modicum of normality in his being. He had to admit to himself that trying to immediately launch the mission to the munitions factory was highly irrational. Had he not been hopped up on stims and frantically finding some way to make Krell’s plan not spell doom for the 501st, he would’ve ordered anyone else to bed and chow before trying such an insane move.

He glanced around the darkened barracks, only seeing the sleeping forms of his fellow brothers, the occasional light snore echoing throughout the room. The umbaran barracks were oddly designed with three stack single beds spaced evenly. Clearly the locals trusted that their militia wouldn’t fall off the top rack for some reason.

Fives rolled out of his own bed on the lowest rack, carefully came to his feet, grabbed the extra bits of his armor that was too annoying to go to bed with and silently walked out the barracks.

He returned when he was fully suited up and began with Jesse, then Hardcase; carefully poking them awake.

They walked with purpose, their rifles shouldered, presenting for any who bothered looking that they were just on their way to a perimeter patrol.

The door to the hangar bay with their fighters was in sight, but Fives stopped dead when he saw that Rex was waiting there patiently.

“Are you seriously going to do this, Fives?” Rex’s face was carved out of granite.

“We’re going after that factory,” he replied, his voice equally hard and determined.

“You realize what your chances are? Not to mention that Krell expressly forbade the mission when I suggested it to him. You’re committing insubordination.”

“This is what must be done for the sake of the 501st and our brothers. If we must sacrifice our lives and freedom for them to live… It's what we do every day, Rex. The only difference now, our opposition is our own commanding officer.”

Rex shook his head, “I hate that you’re right, Fives. I hate that nothing I can possibly say will dissuade you.”

“Are you going to try to stop us anyway?” Fives subtly began limbering and loosening himself in preparation for an actual physical fight with a superior officer. Rex, being the experienced operator that he was, immediately picked up on that. He realized that Fives was fully prepared to dump Rex into the same category as Krell - an enemy in the way of the 501st’s survival.

Rex closed his eyes and sighed, “I can’t help you, when you get caught.”

“We understand completely, sir.” Hardcase and Jesse nodded in agreement.

Rex stepped forward and placed a hand on Fives’ shoulder, looking into the identical eyes of his brother and comrade in arms. Understanding and something that lacked words passed between them before the captain nodded at the other two and left.

“Let’s go.”

Inside the bay, they found Recluse still there, standing by the large diagnostic computer station.

“Everything’s as ready for you as I can make it, lieutenant.”

“Did you get any sleep, sergeant?” Fives asked sternly. 

“I managed two hours right over there,” the Sapper jerked a thumb to a ruffled field sleeping bag nearby. “Don’t worry, Fives. I’m good and your fighters are waiting. I’ve got an override on the hangar doors, as far as the tower and Krell is concerned, they’re closed. The only point they’ll realize that is not the case, is when you’re flying away from this base.”

“Thank you,” Fives thought of slapping the trooper that had been such a great help on the shoulder, only to think better of it. He suddenly knew that there was a reason the man had been given the name Recluse.

“Good luck and as the Jedi say, may the Force be with you, Fives, Hardcase, Jesse.”

They hurried to their fighters and sat down in the inactive cockpit chairs in front of each fighter, putting down their rifles under their seats, on the small platform there.

Fives placed his hands on the arm rests and the bubble shield winked into existence around them. The control holo spheres appeared and he firmly inserted his hands into them before lifting his arms up and backward.

The bubble cockpit hovered into air and smoothly inserted itself into the Zenuas fighter.

The main MFD holo panel winked into being in front of him and he swiped his hand firmly across the upper icons, which all turned red, then switched to yellow before finally turning blue. The fighter started humming and its systems sprang to life.

He brought his hands back to the neutral position and clenched his fists once.

“All right boys, check your coms. By the numbers.”

“Jesse reads, all systems go.”

“Hardcase reads, ready.”

“Just imagine we’re in the field, only this time we’re wearing a fighter for armor. Stay in formation and follow my lead.”

“Roger, Fives.”

He slightly raised his hands and pushed slowly forward.

The fighter raised itself into the air with a deep hum, hovering forward into the empty space above the deck. He raised his hands up slightly again, and the fighter gained momentum, beginning a straight upward ascent through the launch tube.

Fives gently twisted his wrists left and the fighter obediently yawed towards the east.

He spared a brief look at his sensor displays and saw that Hardcase and Jesse were also doing relatively well, though the former was still a bit wobbly in his flight.

“Tighten up, Hardcase.”

“Trying, Fives.”

“Try harder.”

Finally the launch tube ended and Fives felt a brief moment of disorientation as his fighter went through the holo camouflage and burst out into the free and open air above the airbase.

He was already orientated and pushed forward hard and intently with his hands.

The fighter went to full throttle and the air base vanished from beneath him, to be replaced with blurs of red and green light as he sped over the luminescent foliage of the forest.

He spared a quick look and saw he was easily flying over 900 kph. He hadn’t felt the acceleration at all. He didn’t know much about what the flyboys did and experienced in their day to day, but he knew that they still got a kick when they gunned their fighters to full speed, especially in an atmosphere.

“These inertial dampeners are something else,” he couldn’t help but comment.

“It almost feels like I’m controlling the world around me in this thing,” Jesse said with amazement.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Fives warned. “Tighten up on me, at this speed we’re just minutes away from the city outskirts. Ready yourselves for the first turn to starboard, just like we practiced… Ten seconds… five, four, three, two, one… now!”

Fives twisted his wrists steadily and slightly to the right, adding a slight roll in his wrists.

The three fighters turned in a southerly direction.

They had to fly as low as possible and trace a course that led away from the direction of the air field, skirting the city edges.

He could just about see hints of the city itself through the gloom of eternal night on the horizon. Clear artificial blues, reds and greens, coming from light panels that the Umbarans loved to stick on their architecture.

“Now we just have to hope we don’t get shot down by our own side,” Hardcase grumbled.

“If we don’t stray too much from our course, that shouldn’t be a problem, but thank you for reminding me, Hardcase,” Fives commented sarcastically.

Just over two minutes of tense flying later, with their eyes peeled on their scopes and each other, keeping their flight as steady as possible, they finally spotted trouble.

“Blast, now that is one huge battle!”

Far ahead of them, through a cloud layer, flashes of light and the streaks of blue and green plasma cannon fire streamed through the night.

The computer couldn’t properly render the amount of fighters shooting at each other in the sky on their scopes, to Fives it was just a dense sprinkle of dots in their forward sensors.

He was now facing a conundrum, staying down here would keep them relatively safe, but it was very suspicious. The Umbarans would wonder why three of their own were staying down here and out of the fight, in the worst case, they’d assume that they were deserters or traitors.  

“Stay with me, brothers.”

He raised his hands and the fighter climbed.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Fives,” Jesse worried.

“So do I,” he mumbled under his breath.

They burst through the first cloud layer and into sheer utter chaos.

Z95s and Zenuas fighters were zipping everywhere, some staying in formation and others in single one on one fighter duels.

Fives felt as if his heart wanted to jump out of his throat as he frantically maneuvered left, right, up and down to dodge both fighter and plasma blasts.

“This is insane!” screamed Hardcase.

“Fly first and scream later, Hardcase! You don’t have time to be frightened.”

The entire world around him became just his own fighter and the obstacles in his way. He didn’t even think about shooting, just surviving.

He almost missed the computer screaming at him that he had missed their planned turn to port by a full two kilometers.

“Hardcase, Jesse, dive and turn!”

He twisted his wrists and pushed his holo controls down.

The fighter obeyed and they screamed for the deck.

He pulled up with seconds to spare before they would’ve become smashed debris in the forests around the capital.

“Thank the stars,” gasped Jesse. “We made it!”

“Don’t count your credits just yet, we’ve still got to make it past the city perimeter defenses.”

The capital was now looming large in their vision as they whipped through the sky, approaching from the south.

The buildings his scanners could immediately see was a mix of small and large, with a variety of shapes. Yet one drew his attention because it was streaming data queries at his fighter’s computer. He pulled up more, increasing their flight’s altitude to just over 120 meters off ground level.

“Now we find out if our codes work. That tall building in front of us is a perimeter fort.”

“I see it too, Fives. They’re interrogating our computers.”

He resisted the urge to shift his hands into the firing postures. There was every chance that the fortress would detect that immediately.

“Hopefully they’re too busy to contact us over the radio,” Hardcase worried.

Fives really wished he could give his fellow clone a slap over the head at that moment.

He watched his computer readout with baited breath and finally the magic words appeared.

‘Cleared to proceed, Pilot A340T33.’

He didn’t celebrate and just pushed forward, increasing the fighter’s throttle to what was called max overdrive thrust.

“We’re running a bit late, but that’s fine. Set course for heading 310 on my mark… mark.”

He twisted his wrists, turning the fighter until the overhead indicators in the HUD lined up.

“Keep your eyes peeled, boys. We don’t want a fighter patrol joining our little formation for a look. They get close enough they’ll see we’re not umbaran.”

“Roger, Fives.”

The next two minutes as they streaked lengthwise over the city was the most stressful few minutes of Fives’ life thus far. He had been in so many battles where death was just a step away, but this was somehow worse. Here his enemy wasn’t on the ground and visible. Here his enemy was potentially just a blip on his scanner and he wouldn’t even see the shot coming.

Suffice it to say, if he made it through this campaign, he would never have a bad word to say about the flyboys.

The computer chirped a warning at him and brought him out of his half-dazed thoughts. “Approaching target, slow down to 600 kph.”

He gently pulled back his hands. The computer displayed a grid overlay of the city, highlighting them and allowing him to see individual buildings from the mass of darkness and patterned colors below.

Finally, a large building flashed in red; it was nearly a hundred meters lengthwise and shaped like a curved oval. It was like a super-sized version of one of the buildings at the airbase and only stood out from the other buildings around it because of its size.

“There it is!”

“Are you sure, Fives?”

“Recluse programmed these computers and he hasn’t let us down yet. Besides, look at the scanner, this close there’s so much ambient EM from this building, I don’t see how it can’t be our plasma weapons factory. Now switch to weapons mode and let’s get this over with.”

He made a fist with his hands, then spread out his thumb and the inner two fingers, pushing his left hand forward, pulling in with his right. Then with his left, designated the factory as the target and closed his fingers.

The missile pods on either side of the Zenuas fighter’s lower struts began to glow ominously, building up in energy, until a giant spheroid chunk of electro plasma was gathered there.

“Fire!”

He threw his other hand forward.

Six plasma missiles shot through the air, crossing the two kilometers to their targets in moments.

“Turn west! Full overdrive!”

The three fighters yawed left and their rear engines glowed brightly before they broke the local speed of sound and within moments were already three kilometers away.

The explosion that followed lit up the entire northern part of the city and for a long few seconds light came to the Shadow World.

The green fireball that rose over the city was over two hundred meters in width, the factory and everything beneath it vaporized in an instant, whilst the overpressure smashed buildings to pieces within four hundred meters all around.

Fives looked back briefly, feeling both elated and somewhat horrified. The former he knew was from their success, but he remained puzzled at the latter. The computer flashed a warning.

“I just got a radiation alarm, we do not want to be in this part of the city for long! Set your next target as the perimeter fort.”

“Scanning, got a lock!” Jesse reported.

Fives saw they were a little off course in their frantic retreat and shifted the fighter to compensate. The computer also displayed and highlighted the rapidly approaching fort.

It was a tall pentagonal tower, which had a commanding view of the city outskirts towards the west and the surrounding forest. There were over twenty recessed launchers that could pop in and out of the building’s structure. The computer further highlighted over forty anti-infantry Repeater blaster positions.

“And Krell wanted to march us straight into that,” Hardcase said grimly.

“That’s why we’re here. Only lock on at the last possible moment. We have to take advantage of the shock of that explosion. Otherwise we’re dead.”

“Roger, Fives.”

He lowered the fighter’s altitude, going as low as they could whilst still remaining above the buildings. He didn’t doubt that somewhere, from some sensor operator, word would spread through the Umbaran network that their little flight of three fighters was responsible for the destruction of the factory.

They were so low that they had to start dodging around tall buildings, but it was either this or die to umbaran missile fire.

After a full 90 seconds of hair razing flight, the edge of the city approached and their target.

“There it is… wait for it… wait… lock on and fire!”

Six more plasma missiles shot forward and angled themselves to the base of the tower fort.

Fives immediately jinked left as best he could, almost crashing into Jesse in the process, when the fort’s Repeaters opened up on them.

Green bolts streamed outward into the sky, seeking to cut them down.

Then the plasma missiles hit.

Five lower floors of the tower fort disintegrated in moments, turned to plasma fire and its constituent atoms.  

The three fighters shot past it as it began tipping over like a giant tree, before something in its structure was taxed way past the point its engineers had ever designed for. It began collapsing in on itself, duracrete, steel and other alloys might as well have been made of flimsiplast in the face of the forces now being exerted as it fell.

Then a munitions store inside lost containment and a much smaller explosion climbed into the air around the city, sending debris and shrapnel outward on ballistic arcs for kilometers in every direction.

“Kriff yeah! That’s the way to do it!” shouted Hardcase in triumph.

Fives let out a breath of relief he hadn’t even known he’d been holding and a vast weight was somehow lifted from his shoulders. The 501st now had the chink in the armor they needed. He could now face them with duty done and no shame, no matter what happened. Krell could stick his lightsaber in his chest and he would die knowing that his brothers would live on to fight another day.

“Let’s go home boys.”

888888888888888888888888888888888  

Rex walked into the air base command center, helmet under his arm, feeling a knot of tension in his stomach which was also wrapped around his spine.

He glanced briefly to his left, where Fives, Hardcase and Jesse stood disarmed and ‘escorted’ by three other ARC troopers, but his attention was all on General Krell.

The besalisk Jedi stood with all his arms folded behind his back, staring into a scale holo rendering of the capital city, with the giant scar in its north and the missing perimeter fort highlighted in an ugly red. Then tension in the room was palpable as the Jedi stretched the silence and made them wait on his word and judgment.

Rex knew one thing at that moment, he didn’t care how, but Fives, Jesse and Hardcase, would not die because of this. He could’ve stopped them, with his pistol set to stun, he could’ve taken out two of them before the remainder could turn around and engage him… but he hadn’t. It would be to spit in the face of the sacrifice they were going to make for the 501st and for Rex himself. In that same way, he couldn’t look himself in the mirror if he didn’t make the sacrifice of a leader as well. He was their commanding officer… he was responsible for them.

Rex cleared his throat, feeling somewhat sick of the game Krell was playing. “You wanted to see them, sir.”

“Indeed,” Krell said briefly. He couldn’t help but notice in his tone, that the Jedi general felt a sense of pleasure at Rex being the one to speak first and hurry this entire thing along. “It seems they have accomplished a very brave feat.” The bastard still didn’t have the decency to even turn around and face the men he was about to condemn. “Unfortunately, they’ve also committed a serious crime, by directly disobeying my order.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Rex stepped forward. “The order to attack the factory and perimeter fort was mine. If there’s a punishment to be given, it should be directed toward me. I’m their commanding officer.”

“General, sir,” Fives stepped forward immediately. “Captain Rex is attempting to take the blame for actions that were clearly mine.”

“Fives!” snapped Rex. What was the stupid idiot doing?

Fives charged ahead anyway, “I request that his admission of guilt be denied and full blame placed upon me. It was my idea, I pushed for it and roped Hardcase and Jesse into it.”

“Do you now?” Krell asked archly, finally turning around and regarded Fives with a darkly amused expression. “You willfully countermand my direct order and now you have the audacity to request who should bear the punishment of your insurrection.” The Jedi began a slow languid walk, up and down the line of men in the command center. “Let me be clear about the punishment for the treason committed by ARC trooper 5555, CT-5597 and CT-4901.”

Back to being numbers now are we? Rex thought darkly.

The Jedi walked up the line, keeping his face turned away. “They will be court martialed.” Krell abruptly stopped in front of Rex and pushed his huge alien face so close that the clone had to lean backward. “They will be found guilty and they will be executed.”

Was it his imagination or were Krell’s eyes… different?

Krell stepped back and turned to face the hologram of the wounded city. “Make no mistake. For crossing me, you will pay the price. Take them to the detention hub where they can join the captured umbarans in their own private cell.”

Rex felt anger as never before, but forced himself to salute. “Yes, General.”

88888888888888888888888888888888   

I blinked my actual eyes and looked up into the worried face of Anakin standing over the interface chair.

The Force directed me inward and I regained my equilibrium, reminding me that yes, I was actually here in the troop hold of the Omen flying at 187 light years per hour and my stomach was complaining at the lack of food.

I popped off the circlet from my head and handed it over to him. “I left the holodroid working at the base reactor. It should be able to handle a convo or two by itself using the Recluse persona.”

“So it’s as foreseen.”

I nodded and jumped off the chair, “Krell is already in the first stages of giving in to his Darkness. If Masters Tiin and Kenobi weren’t fighting for their lives at the moment they would sense it as well.”

“And even if they did,” Anakin took my place and fitted the circlet. “It’s not like they could do anything about it.”

“Ahsoka.” Chewie popped his head through the hatch that led to the upper deck. “Incoming transmission for you. It’s from Ursa Wren.”

“Thanks Chewie,” I waved and re-enabled my comlink’s connection to the ship’s com array. Immediately the device started chirping in its usual annoying fashion. “Yes Ursa?”

The stern visage of the Blades’ second in command appeared over my arm. “Manda’lor. I’d appreciate some eventual notice if you have to suddenly depart from a battlefield.”

I winced, “Sorry about that. I was also quite busy with a certain Jedi matter.” She knew what equipment was on the Omen, so made the obvious connection and I didn’t need to spell it out. 

“Understood, Manda’lor. You should know that there is a gift for you on board the Omen. We intended to give it after the battle of Umbara.”

“Gift?” I asked, rather honestly baffled.

“Yes, it came to the Armorer’s attention that you have since aged into your majority, after getting caught up in that anomaly. After investigation into the matter, she feels that your current armor is not reflective of your status. She requires you to correct the matter immediately. On the troop deck of the Omen, in locker B19, which you can open with code Tau 334910, you will find your gift.”

“So what you’re saying is that this is two years worth of belated birthday gifts and my coming of age in Mandalorian society rolled into one?”

She paused for a moment, “Yes, manda’lor. You could look at it in that manner.”  

“All right, hang on.” 

I walked down the deck to the far end and found the locker in question. M8 did a routine quick scan and finding nothing abnormal, I tapped in the code.

The locker door hissed and retreated to the left, the lights inside coming on automatically.

I stared at the contents, feeling like my jaw wanted to become unhinged and plant itself on the floor.

Staring directly at me, with its intimidating T-shaped visor, was a proper Mandalorian helmet, specially shaped for a togruta exactly as designed by myself and Anakin. The forehead of the helmet had a Clan Viszla stylized mythosaur emblem embossed on it 

Below that was further beskar plates, shaped exactly in the Aegis pattern; vambraces, gauntlets, pauldrons, breastplate, groin protector, cuisse, greaves and boot plating, which I could easily replace the current plating I had on with a microsolder and time.

All of it was covered in the digital camo pattern I favored with the Jedi emblems also prominent on the pauldron and chest.

I took a deep breath and had to touch the beskar to chase away the feeling of surreality that washed over me. Just by the weight and touch, I could tell that the Armorer had not skimped on the beskar. This was high grade, easily above 90% purity at least, something that took a long time to achieve and given that it was made by her, would easily fetch a small fortune.

“Thank you, Ursa.”

She nodded, “It really should’ve been handed over to you in a proper Naur’alor* ceremony, but that can be dispensed with given the circumstances.”    

I immediately recalled that ceremony from my knowledge and readings of Mando culture. In ideal circumstances, the Armorer herself would be the one to hand this over to me for my own inspection. She would use a smith hammer, vibroblade, blaster and even a ceremonial lightsaber to demonstrate the strength of the parts to me. This would also be done with select witnesses from the clan in attendance.

“If it sets the Armorer’s pride and duty at ease, I will do the testing and record myself doing it.”

Ursa’s mouth twitched somewhat, “I’m sure she will appreciate it, manda’lor.”

“Anything else to report?”

“Other than three injuries among the Blades during our recon operations of the umbaran capital, no, manda’lor.”

“Good, you’ve received word about what the 501st achieved in the north-west?”

“Yes, manda’lor.”

“I want you to station your squadron nearby, stand ready with a Krayt and wait for a signal on our encrypted frequency.”

“It will be done, manda’lor.”

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A/N: Naur’alor -  formal title of a beskar armorer

What is a Krayt in this context? Spoilers :-) On another note, Fives utters something ridiculous in the show, listing the Umbaran long range missiles as 100 megaton yield. We can argue systems of measurement differences between Corusca Galaxy and IRL, but even just casual research would've told the writers how ridiculous that is. The USSR Tsar Bomba the largest designed nuke in history was 100Mt, it was never achieved, with the actual bomb only reaching about 50Mt. That is a big city killer, with a fireball 8km wide and generally kills everyone within a 21km diameter in surface burst mode.

Anyway, have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Helmet

Medium: Hand drawn pencil & digital.

Rationale: A quick visualization of Ahsoka's helmet integrated into armor (Thanks Trickster Mortian for inspiration and impetus to try). This is a later imagining, with a Vizsla Mando helmet integration , combining with an ME style Aegis. After this I really appreciate the headache it must've been to design something that can somewhat comfortably hold and protect lekku and montrals, but still allow the neck its range of motion. (Reminds me of the early Batman movies and the issues they had.) Its probably why in the CW show, the artists just gave her a bubble helmet for scenes in hard vacuum and just handwaved away her need for a bubble helmet in an underwater environment on Mon Cala.

The neck is both a hard ring that can rotate, providing a vacuum seal if necessary, but also has a flexible weave that expands out of it, accommodating the full range of motions the neck can make.  

The Force Wills - Chapter 94

Through the Force, his will crushed down on the mind of his target.

The unfortunate Umbaran militiaman fell unconscious in his dugout cover, Anakin dropped right next to the umbaran from the tree above. His holoshell changed immediately from the featureless void black camouflage to an imitation of the Umbaran armor and a randomized face based on his victim.

The imitation wasn’t perfect at first, but began to improve as Ahsoka directed the holodroid’s scans.

‘Figured that, it won’t be as simple as a visual mimicry, master. Each militia has an IFF signal that’s operating on a high frequency range outside the general ECM jamming. I didn’t think they’d have the technology to operate in this part of the spectrum.’

He looked at the scan readings displayed in his HUD vision and had to agree, ‘Not going to be able to mimic that signal. We’re going to have to use our sleeping friend’s IFF.’

Anakin pushed the umbaran over and found the source; a small compartment just below the helmet. Inside there was a modular piece of incredibly dense, sophisticated circuitry. The scans were amazing, his mind and fingers itching to just snatch it, take it apart and study it. 

‘Not going to be able to just yank that out, master. It’ll alert every militia in his platoon that something went wrong. Wait… frakking shabla, this is practical Terahertz wave tech!’

‘Terahertz, Snips?’

‘Sorry, master. I mean, the best equivalent in Basic is Matafom.’

‘Anything in that frequency range would get absorbed by mere meters of atmosphere, Snips.’

‘Yet the Umbarans have clearly figured out a way around that problem judging by this.’

‘One step at a time, Snips.’ As much as the umbarans had a unique tech base, there were certain galactic standards of technology they had absorbed and so he had no problem finding a compatible logic port to slot the holodroid’s interface spike into.

‘Scanning, master. R2 is also interfaced now… breaking encryption… wow, he says this is going to take nearly six minutes.’

‘So their computer technology is better as well?’ he asked incredulously.

‘No, just the programming language they use is sufficiently different from what he has on record, that he has to take the time to learn and adapt first. After this he should be his usual efficient self.’

He focused and pushed out his awareness, finding the rest of the umbaran platoon clustered in this area overlooking the main road into the capital, each in their own little camouflage dugout.

All were looking at the road in silence and waiting. Their attention levels were impressively high but he could tell that a general fatigue was setting in. The ground invasion was eleven hours old at this point and if they had been stuck in the same dugouts for that long, then body cramps were also certainly setting in.

‘Master, are you seeing the stuff that’s in their helmets?’

Anakin turned his attention there and the close range scans unfolded in his vision. ‘Drugs, administered via the lungs.’

‘I’ve cross referenced it, we’re looking at a combination of stimulant and reflex enhancer. On a level playing field your typical umbaran militia will outdraw and react faster than a clone trooper.’

‘They can also fight and remain alert for longer as well.’

‘Yes, but they’ll pay a price for that in the long run. If they keep breathing this stuff for more than two days, they’ll start to experience side-effects that range from heart attacks, strokes and all sorts of crippling muscular strains and spasms.’

‘They must have the medical technology to alleviate that if they’re giving it to all their troops.’

‘Maybe master, or they don’t and they have a greater pool of reserves to draw upon than we thought.’

Anakin had to quickly divert the attention of the nearest militiaman who had looked back to his now sleeping comrade, buying enough time to construct a minor mental illusion that there was only one person in the dugout.

‘Close one… encryption broken, master. R2 has an emulation program ready and subverted the IFF. You can pull it.’

He carefully pushed his fingers inside the small panel, got the best grip he could and steadily applied backwards pressure.

It stayed stuck in place.

‘Is there any articulation holding it in place?’

‘None that we can see, master. It’s likely just wedged in due to the time it spent there and temperature fluctuations. Wiggle it carefully.’

He did so, also bringing to bear the slightest of pressure he could manage with the Force.

The chipboard popped out and he winced as he felt the phantom sensation of his stomach clenching.

‘Okay, now there’s an auxiliary slot in the holodroid’s lower right torso, bring the chipboard there.’

Anakin did so and grimaced as he saw the panel open up through the holoshell. "It's not my body, relax, Skywalker,’ he thought in his innermost shielded mind.  ‘You’re not telling me you have a compatible port in this droid?’

‘No master, but HK and I did plan for it to a degree. There is an adaptive interface there, it will grab the board, evaluate and find any points of contact it can.’

He was rather startled when the small board was ripped out his grasp by an internal claw that popped out, pulling it into the holodroid’s chassis. The panel closed and he was somewhat unnerved by the fact that technically his ‘body’ was working under the remote control of someone else. Ahsoka sensed this and streamed a basic wireframe graphical analysis of the chipboard and all the dozens of tiny connectors and probes latching onto it. It almost looked like a technological version of some multi-limbed creature devouring it.

‘R2 has it, interfacing… next step complete. Wow, the matafom transmitter is actually embedded in the chipset. That simplifies things considerably and… we’ve taken over and we even have access to the Umbaran battle network now, at least at the level of classification our sleeping friend has.’

‘Good, find out everything you can. How’s our own signal faring under all this jamming?’

‘It’s compensation is holding and its phasing through the jamming frequencies nicely. No change there, master.’

Anakin pulled the militiaman down and tucked him deeper into the dugout, arranging him into a fetal position. He eyed the Umbaran blaster rifle and directed scans that way. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be any active security features on it, none that he could detect. ‘Snips, I’m okay to pick this thing up?’

‘One moment… yes. It seems its security is linked to the IFF module.’

He picked it up by the pistol grip of the rear handle. It was ostensibly a carbine, with no stock but was definitely more advanced if it was also using the synthetic plasma technology. It was also definitely heavier than an equivalent DC carbine.

‘We’re getting a datastream from the weapon through the IFF, running a translation program and piping it to your HUD.’

‘Oh, so that’s how they’re solving the aiming issue.’

There was an active circular reticle in his HUD now that was indicating where the barrel of the Umbaran carbine was pointing. It was a little too long to really fall into a carbine definition neatly though.

He felt a familiar presence enter the outer edges of his awareness. Just under four hundred meters away down the main road, emerging from the neighboring forest.

‘Ahsoka, I’m sensing Rex and four other platoons approaching. What are they doing?! This is a full frontal assault along the main road. That was not in the plan!’

‘Clearly, Krell didn’t get the memo on that, master.’

He pushed his farsight forward and saw troopers dividing themselves into two columns on either side of the road, sappers in the front and carefully advancing.

In just another 200 odd meters they would round the nearby bend and come in full view of the waiting militia ambush.

He interrogated the network data they had received so far. One full company, with four hover tanks, their sights trained on the road. The road itself was also mined with pressure sensitive explosive charges, which had network uplinks as well - meaning the umbarans could activate and deactivate them at will. Unfortunately, the umbaran he was impersonating wasn’t of sufficient rank to do anything about those.

There was also the problem that he couldn’t help the 501st too overtly or otherwise blow his cover. He had to not only hide from the umbarans, but he also needed to remain unnoticed by Krell. The greater goal would be for naught if the besalisk Jedi sensed that Anakin was still present on the battlefield.

Therefore he had to make do with minimal usage of the Force.

‘Ahsoka, I need you and R2 to hack into a single mine and detonate it on my mark.’

‘Understood, any preference for where, Skyguy?’

‘As close as possible to the umbaran position, get Rex’s attention in the right direction.’

‘Right… give it a few seconds… hack in place, master. Ready to detonate.’

The battalion came closer and closer. He also felt the attention of the umbarans begin to spike.

‘Master, there are passive proximity sensors that the 501st just tripped. Tuning you into their radio frequency.’’

Anakin heard the rapid staccato of the umbaran native tongue in his ‘ear’ and could only make sense of every other word. Every militia in their dugout went from seated to taking a single knee, readying themselves for battle.

He imitated them and brought the blaster properly to hand, readying to snap up and fire.

Tension rocketed among the umbarans.

The 501st was under 100 meters away.

50 meters…

25…

10…

‘Ahsoka, now!’

The hack went through.

The mine detonated with a thunderous clap sending a thin geyser of duracrete and earth shooting into the sky.

He popped up and fired, intentionally missing a trooper’s head by an inch.

The umbarans, already so tense, waiting for the battle to start, simply reacted and started firing.

The troopers went prone and crawled on either side of the road, trying to find any cover they could - trees, depressions and so on, but it was naturally sparse because of the road.

Then they began to return fire.

Anakin had to hurriedly duck the blue sniper bolt that had threatened to take the holodroid’s head off.

The firefight began in earnest as blue and green plasma bolts criss-crossed in the air.

The next few minutes that followed Anakin was treated to the daunting experience of fighting his own men and shooting at them. He really began to appreciate how well they were trained by both him and Ahsoka. He barely had moments to pop up and shoot before a blue plasma bolt sought to remove his head.

In the umbaran tactical network, it was chaos as dozens registered as injured or dead within the first minute of the fight.

‘Incoming grenades, master!’ shouted Ahsoka.

Twenty gun propelled grenades shot into the dark night, aimed with the accuracy he had come to expect of the 501st.

Of course, those same grenades now threatened to turn the holodroid to scrap.

Can’t use the Force actively, he thought.

He felt for the moment, pushing into his own prescience.

His weapon aimed and without even looking he sent a green bolt into the sky.

The grenade was hit in mid-air, destabilizing the volatiles inside and it airburst into loud thunderclap, the overpressure washed over the holodroid to little effect.

His ‘fellow’ umbarans were not as lucky. More died and were flung out of their dugouts in pieces or were simply crushed from above as the lethal overpressures slammed down like giant hammers.

“Hover tanks attack, infantry retreat!” he heard over the umbaran tacnet.

The tanks in question began firing on the 501st position, but Anakin had to play his role. He vaulted out of his dugout and ran as fast as he could. He couldn’t use Force Speed augmentation, but the holodroid was superhumanly fast anyway, which he had to consciously tone down.

He leaned into prescience to dodge the devilish fire from the 501st - side stepping left at just the right moment for a bolt to miss his back, a duck there and a dodge roll to bring his body behind a tree at the exact moment, causing the sniper bolt to miss and other fire to eat into the thick alien tree.

The electric high pitch of umbaran plasma cannons streaked overhead and Anakin joined three other umbaran militia who were running in retreat.

In tactical terms, the hover tanks had briefly put the 501st on the backfoot, buying enough time for the umbaran infantry retreat.

That didn’t last long though as the Sappers brought out the secondary weapon they carried on their backs - the RPS-6 rocket launchers.

Shoulder launched missiles streaked out into the night, going high into the air before plunging down onto their targets.

Anakin couldn’t help but appreciate another of Ahsoka’s insistent changes. She hammered the armorers of the Resolute and had sent dozens of messages to Merr-Sonn Munitions demanding the change in flight profile and target selection of their warheads.

The RPS-6 rocket slammed right onto the roofs of the hover tanks, easily penetrating the naturally thinner armor before detonating inside the cabins.

The tanks erupted into massive conflagrations that lit the eternal night as their power plants and internal munitions stores exploded.

“Keep running!” Anakin barked in umbaran at his ‘comrade’ running next to him, who looked to be flagging somewhat.

Three more Umbaran hover tanks exploded in short order.

The remnants of the Umbaran company, numbering just nineteen soldiers fled into the forest and headed for the next defense line.

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“CT-7567,” said Master Krell forbiddingly, stopping at the new defense line the troops had settled into, taking either side of the main road and the umbaran positions. “Do you have a malfunction in your design? You stopped your forces from advancing further to the capital city. The enemy now knows where we are and is further fortifying along this line of advance. This entire operation has been compromised, because of your failure!”

Rex endured the beratement stoically, mentally preparing to undercut this… No, he really shouldn’t be thinking uncharitable thoughts about a Jedi whilst speaking directly to said Jedi. He had enough experience from Commander Tano to know that she could easily pick up the deepest emotions someone was feeling in her presence.

“General Krell,” Fives spoke up from behind the Jedi Master. Damn Fives, don’t, Rex thought frantically. “In case you didn’t notice. We defeated a well prepared ambush that was waiting for us. Scans show the entire road is mined. Captain Rex made the right call to halt our advance. Goodness knows what else the umbarans have waiting for us.”

“ARC-5555,” Krell turned around slowly. “Stand down. I don’t recall asking for your opinion and I’m sure CT-7567 can defend himself if he is truly worthy of his rank.”

“Sir,” Rex said as calmly as he could, though it was difficult to quell the embers of anger that were beginning. “I followed your orders, even in the face of a plan that was, in my opinion, severely flawed. We only saw that ambush coming because the umbarans suffered an equipment malfunction.” He ripped off his helmet and allowed the anger to simmer into his eyes. “We fought them off at the cost of a platoon of men, not clones! Men!”

Krell met his eyes and Rex refused to back down or cower, even in the face of the huge Jedi Master. “As much as it is my duty to remain loyal to your command. I also have a duty to protect those men and not spend their lives frivolously.”

Rex fought the judging heavy gaze of the besalisk Jedi for seconds that seemed to stretch out for much longer. He ignored his own racing heart and kept his face as resolute and unflinching as he could. He would not back down on this.

Krell’s wide mouth smirked lopsidedly and he looked away to the city in the distance. “You have a spark of tenacity, captain. I’ll give you that. I know that I don’t command like the Jedi you’re used to serving, certainly not like General Skywalker or his deputy, but I have my way and it has worked so far. It will be difficult, but these are difficult times. I suppose your loyalty to your men is to be commended. They seem to admire this. That’s important to an effective commander.”

The Jedi sighed and folded his two sets of arms and nodded at him. “All right, Captain Rex. Your opinion has been noted, as has the skill of your men. I wish my own legion would’ve been as effective in dealing with that ambush as you did. I see the training and hand of Commander Tano at work here.”

Rex was surprised the Jedi master could see that or would even admit it.

“Very well, Captain. Keep your men in place. We’ll see if we can’t find a weakness in the enemy defenses ahead to exploit.”

Krell turned around and walked away towards the rear elements of the battalion as the AT-RTs steadily advanced to the new front line.

“Wow, he almost complimented you and even called you by your name,” Fives said sarcastically, when the Jedi was well out of view.

“Incoming fighters!”

Rex barely had time to turn around when five Zenuas fighters appeared out of the darkened sky and began raining fire down, both from their chin turrets and electro plasma bombs from their wings.

The earth erupted from the explosions as the bombs landed right on a section of the front line, sending troopers and parts of troopers flying through the air.

He jammed his helmet on as he and Fives ran for cover, “Sappers! I want those fighters out of my sky!”

Ten RPS missiles streaked into the air, immediately beginning to home in on their targets.

Rex fell into the closest dugout and grinned as the enemy fighters maneuvered frantically to evade. 

Those fighters were extremely nimble, he had to give the shadies credit. Seemingly able to turn and shift their momentum at the will of the pilots in their ray shielded bubble cockpits. Some managed to shrug off the missiles, but four of them weren’t quick enough and took a missile in the hottest portions of the fighter.

He winced as the overhead explosions lit up the sky and pieces of fighter craft began raining down.

“Counter attack!”

The green blaster bolts of umbaran militia began peppering the defense line.

Rex shouldered his rifle, sighted and with two double trigger pulls nailed two charging militiamen in the chest and head.

The remaining fighter came for another strafing run, but two blue and green spinning blades of light shot into the night and cut straight through the lower struts.

The spinning blades maneuvered with a similar defiance of gravity or momentum, spinning to other parts of the fighter and slashing into it.

General Krell stepped into view, remaining behind the cover of a tree and made pulling gestures with all four arms.

Krell’s lightsabers rushed back to their owner, shutting down their lethal blades before the hilts slapped into the besalisk’s giant hands.

The fighter sputtered in mid-air struggling to stay aloft, before it seemingly lost all power. The bubble canopy of the pilot shut down as it plummeted out of the air and crashed into an entire platoon of advancing militiamen, crushing and injuring many.

The wreckage of the fighter seemingly chose that moment to explode, finishing off any nearby survivors.

Krell stepped casually forward, his dual bladed saber staffs active and moving with blurred movement, sending any blaster fire straight back to the enemy.

Rex was only peripherally aware of the spectacle, but soon the Jedi was right next to his dugout.

The characteristic low engine hum of more Umbaran fighters flew by overhead.

“These fighters are becoming an annoyance,” Krell growled. “We were supposed to have air superiority!”

The general stopped fighting and abruptly jumped into the same dugout Rex was using, thankfully turning off his sabers before doing so. There was just barely enough space and the Jedi’s huge right leg was pushing quite uncomfortably against his side.

Krell’s reason for this close encounter became apparent when he tapped the blinking comlink on his upper left arm.

Rex just kept firing, adding two, then three more kill marks he could scratch onto his armor. 

“The capital city is extremely fortified,” said the voice of General Kenobi. “Many buildings that we thought were civilian on the outskirts were disguised weapon emplacements, firing long range missiles that home in on both ground and air. We’ve for the moment lost our air dominance.”

“Resistance along our own axis of advance has also been greater than anticipated,” reported Krell. “We’re holding for now.”

“If we’re to make any headway, we need to take out what we think is an airbase in the west that is the primary launching point for these fighters.”

More RPS missiles streaked into the air, but only two fighters were destroyed.

The rest managed to evade and continued trying to strafe the 501st, at least until those troopers with DC-15X snipers and the AT-RTs cannons combined their firepower.

A fighter spun wildly out of control and crashed out of view behind a nearby hill, sending up a bright fireball that quickly faded into the night.

“Send me the coordinates, I’ll see to it that it's under our control!”

“We need control of the skies back, General, quickly or this entire invasion is in jeopardy.”

Grenades thumped into the air and lit up the enemy advance with explosions.

Krell lowered his arm, “Captain Rex, you heard him. We need to deal with this attack and move out immediately!”

“Yes sir!”

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Anakin slunk from tree to tree, the holodroid currently nothing more than a black void that blended into the night.

Prowling behind enemy lines and infiltrating was certainly a welcome change of pace given the battles they’d been involved in lately.

‘Okay, master, you should be near it now.’

He fell prone and easily crawled forward, sticking his head carefully over the edge of the terrain which became a reasonably large valley.

At the far end, was a reasonably sized air base that, even as he watched, launched another squadron of Umbaran fighters into the sky. 

He zoomed in the droid’s vision and saw why this place had been easily dismissed. There were only a small number of surface buildings, including a large central tower, but the pads the fighters had launched from were actually elevators, which were now retreating into the ground and covered with a large holo to mimic a duracrete surface.

‘So, given this is right next to the capital, we could be looking at the biggest air base on the planet, only most of it is underground,’ he thought.

‘This base is perfectly situated, only one practical approach for any large ground force. The 501st will be squeezed in there, only a single platoon can advance while maintaining ideal spacing. If that’s not enough, look here.’

His HUD shifted and a zoomed view showed six huge 50 meter long segmented tanks, clearly imitating some form of sinuous insect. Eleven segments, each had its own turreted cannon, whilst the front had four forward facing cannons and a glowing cockpit area.

‘These things are capable of underground movement and emerging right in the middle of any troop formation. Armor is thick enough to give RPS missiles trouble, unless they target the vulnerable spots. Next to them is the Umbaran version of artillery, except mounted to a heavily shielded multi-limbed walker platform.’

"We'd need AT-TEs to make a dent in those, nothing the 501st has at the moment will let them take those out.’

‘True. Only bright side is that the terrain also precludes the enemy fielding these things in large numbers.’

Anakin considered the options available to them. There was really only one way forward.

The valley approach was the only one practical for a conventional force, but not for a lone infiltrator.

He crawled backward slightly, stood and began running, tapping into the Force to boost the holodroid’s movement.

They would take the long way around, skirt the edges of the valley, loop around and enter the base from the north-western side. A combination of both the Force and the holodroid’s sensors let them avoid passive enemy sensor detection nets and militia patrols.

It took most of an hour to cover that distance and Anakin paused at the edge of a tree, just beyond the perimeter fence of the base.

The fence itself was mostly just a line of tall pillars that were emitting solid walls of blue force fields, which also crackled with electrified potential. He immediately spotted a very obvious potential weakness in this defense.

‘They’re lazy. The trees are so tall and the thick branches haven’t been pruned at all. Clone troopers would need just an ascension gun and rope to get over this.’

‘Master, detecting a handshake protocol trying to sync with the Umbaran IFF, I think we can just walk through if we allow it.’

‘We’ll certainly have an easier time moving through the base that way. Do it.’

He engaged the holodroid’s full umbaran militia disguise, brought the blaster rifle to hand and walked without hesitation to the perimeter force field.

The moment he was within arm’s reach of the blue electric wall, it flickered and an entire segment powered down, allowing him to walk right through.

‘Interfacing with the network, we should be able to pull a map diagram, get our bearings,’ announced Ahsoka.

Anakin kept walking with a proper gait and intent, as if he was just another militiaman, doing his duty, on his way back from a patrol of the exterior of the base.

There were very few soldiers actually above ground, most of them he sensed were down below, working on getting the fighters ready.

‘Got it, projecting onto your HUD. This facility is as huge as we guessed. There’s enough space down here to house twenty squadrons of their Zenuas fighters. The pilots, support staff, ordnance and a local guard force, all have underground barracks. There are also connection tunnels that lead right to the capital city.’

‘That is very convenient,’ he thought, eyeing the six massive artillery walker tanks to his right that were now towering over him as he walked past them. They weren’t crewed yet, but that was going to change as the 501st came closer. ‘Snips, what is the clearance level I have at the moment?’

‘Your IFF currently designates you as Kaelus Zan, current rank is their equivalent of a sergeant or mid level non-commissioned officer. You can walk everywhere except the base’s power plant.’

He turned, heading into the direction of the central tower of the base. It was lit up with large blue panels all down its length, serving as the major light source for the whole area.   

A decorative circular holo, the symbol of the Umbaran royal caste, marked one of the side entrances to the tower. It vanished as he approached and the door behind it parted for him with an impressive mechanical fluidity. So perfect was the engineering, that one could hardly tell there was a door at all in the outer skin of the building.

Beyond was a long hallway with a bank of turbolifts on his left.

‘What are you thinking master? Find a control room to wreak havoc the moment the 501st attacks?”

He strode into the lift and tapped the holographic panel to bring it to the uppermost level of the tower. 

‘That’s the general idea, but we must first get an idea of the Umbaran systems before I can say for sure.’

The lift began to decelerate way too early and Anakin hurriedly wrapped the Force around him as it stopped halfway up the tower, just in time for the doors to open.

He was confronted by a bored Umbaran woman, wearing a white military uniform with a blue stripe down the side. Her silver hair was impractically long and her pale blue disinterested eyes just slid over Anakin as if he was part of the background. She had a single sidearm blaster in a holster along with rank pips on her collar, but he couldn’t tell if she was low rank or she might as well be the base commander for all he knew.

She walked in and regarded the control panel, frowning at it briefly before tapping another button to force the doors to close.

Anakin suppressed the feelings of elevator awkwardness as the woman turned her back to him and the lift resumed its journey.

‘Doubt the umbarans put their women on the front lines, she’s support staff or intelligence service,’ Ahsoka commented. ‘Referencing her face in their personnel database.’

‘Is that necessary?’

‘Never know what might become handy in the future, Skyguy. Well, what do you know, she’s the base’s second in command. Lisara Caln, the best translation for her rank is a lieutenant commander or sub commander.’

Anakin’s thoughts raced and he eyed how far it was to the top of the tower and how much time they had. ‘Snips, any visual sensors in this thing? I don’t see any.’

‘There is one, top corner, behind and to your right. It’s small.’

He sensed for it carefully, not letting haste cloud his thoughts.

There! He reached out with the Force, inducing the most minor of electric fields he could to short circuit the sensor.

‘It’s out. Go, master.’

His will reached forward and pushed down onto the mind of Lisara Caln.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed bonelessly to the elevator floor. Every detail of her form was already being scanned and generated into a holoshell disguise by Ahsoka, and was ready for him to use by the time he had the woman propped up against the elevator wall. 

‘Where’s her IFF, Snips?’

‘Integrated into her belt, disguised as the buckle.’

There were too many potential problems with just ripping it off her. ‘Can the one I have emulate hers?’

‘The encryption is not just in the software, it’s also in the chipset itself. Sorry, master.’

‘Fine.’

He fiddled around the belt, unlatched it and pulled it off with one quick yank. ‘Eject the other IFF.’

The holodroid’s panel popped open and the sergeant’s chipboard clattered to the floor as he ripped the buckle from the belt and fed it into the adaptive interface.

‘This is going to be a close thing, master. All right, her IFF is online.’

Anakin switched the holoshell and now there were two Lisara Caln’s in the lift. He next turned his attention to a quick review of the floor plan he was going to encounter, even as he stored the militiaman’s deactivated IFF in another leg compartment.

‘R2 managed to intercept the IFF’s alert when it went offline. You’re still clear on the network, no alarms raised. The lift camera malfunction was noticed. We’re going to have to be invisible via camera footage loops from here on.’

He easily picked up the umbaran woman and straightened himself just in time for the lift to reach the top floor of the tower.

Thankfully he sensed no one in the immediate corridor or in the adjoining ones.

‘Cam sensors are looped, go master.’

He rushed out of the elevator and turned left immediately, running with max speed the holodroid was capable of. He had to support Caln’s neck rather awkwardly with the Force to prevent her head from being flung about.

Thankfully, the umbarans were just like the rest of the humanoid galaxy when it came to some architectural choices and the closest refresher room was just a dozen meters from the turbolift bank.

He paused before entering though, ‘Sensors in here?’

‘They’re umbarans, master. Of course there is. One moment… looped.’

The doors swished open and he quickly hurried into one of the refresher stalls that had the umbaran Basic signage for ‘woman’. Then made her somewhat comfortable by sitting her down on the seat.

He renewed the Force Sleep on her mind, dropped the blaster rifle, appropriated her blaster pistol and closed the refresher stall behind him.

His eyes caught the massive mirror on the opposite wall reflecting his current disguise and a wave of oddness washed over his perceptions. The proprioception of this holodroid body was really doing a number on his internal equilibrium at times.

‘Skyguy, I see a problem. You’re not moving properly… I mean, you’re walking with the gait of a man.’

The holoshell was doing an excellent job, but it only contributed to the sense of wrongness at seeing the bumps of a bosom where there should’ve been a male chest and the flared hips was just making everything worse.

He walked, trying to shift the holodroid hips into the best approximation he could of a woman’s walk.

‘Master, you’re the XO of this base, not a fashion model.’ He could feel Ahsoka clearly holding back laughter.

‘Would you like to take over?’ he asked sarcastically.

‘That wouldn’t be a good idea now.’

An annoying urgent alarm echoed throughout the room, whilst the lights dimmed slightly.

‘That is the combat alert. The 501st are in the valley, approaching the base.’

All thoughts of impersonation fled and he rushed out of the refresher, and sprinted down the hall, took the first right, and straight towards a large blast door set in a thick bulkhead.

It opened for him immediately and he slowed to a normal authoritative walk as befitted someone of command. 

This was the base command center; a large oval room with terminal holo stations all along the perimeter and a central holotank.

A dozen umbarans wearing the same white uniform were diligently working at their posts and rapidly talking to each other, whilst standing at the central holotank was an umbaran male with militia armor, but not wearing the helmet.

Currently the holotank was displaying a full real time tactical map of the valley approach, with small icons representing the 501st troopers steadily moving down it. Small scale holo versions of the umbaran tanks were already being manned and one insectoid tank was already underway.

“...Caln?”

The familiar word snapped Anakin out of his racing thoughts on how to somehow salvage the situation. He looked up and met the gray eyes of the base commander; the white haired man was frowning at him, his confusion clear and Anakin sensed the clear concern, even affection the commander had for the woman whose form he had adopted.

In that brief moment, Anakin understood - Caln and the base commander were lovers, even married or as close as Umbarans came to the concept. 

But there was no more time to agonize or debate, there was only action as he saw more insectoid tanks begin moving.

In a blurred movement, Anakin drew the Umbaran pistol and fired it into the chest of the commander.

The man’s look of surprised shock briefly etched itself into his memory before he collapsed to the floor with a hole in his chest.

The Force cried out in warning and he ducked behind the holotank to avoid blaster shots from the various technicians around him.

He rolled forward, grabbed a male technician by the neck to use his body as a shield, before firing four rapid shots in a blurring movement.

Each shot found its mark, blasting into chests or exploding heads.

Anakin’s human shield took three blasts before he dove away, again using the holotank’s base as cover, before blind firing his pistol overhead.

He felt three deaths before he rolled again, moving in a blur of Force Speed grabbing one of the remaining technicians by the chest and throwing them easily to collide with two others.

Those three went down in a tangle of limbs, before he spun and fired rapidly again, in the process grabbing another fallen blaster pistol from the floor.

He threw that blaster, aiming for the one technician that was rushing towards the exit. It brained him hard on the back of the head and sent him sprawling into unconsciousness.

He stood slowly and surveyed the room.

Everyone was either dead or unconscious. 

He looked down at the blaster in his hand and after a bit of exploration, found the selector switch… there were only two settings, safe or lethal.

‘Funny, you’d think they’d want a stun setting to take prisoners at least,’ Ahsoka commented.

He rushed over to the blast door and stabbed the holodroid’s interface probe into the control panel there. It was the work of a few seconds to secure the door and lock it down from anyone attempting to come in from the outside.

A brief look at the holotank showed all six insectoid tanks manned and moving, sinuously moving forward before using their forward looking lasers to drill straight down into the earth outside the perimeter fence.

Anakin rushed to the control terminals and frantically scanned for one that would help.

The first thing he found was the launch controls for starfighters. He stabbed the holodroid interface into the slot and the entire umbaran network unfolded before his eyes.

‘Wow, those credentials just made things so much easier. R2 has the entire base completely open to him. No more hacking needed.’

He threw a command into the network, locking down all the starfighter elevator platforms. ‘No more air support from this base at least.’

‘R2, help me lock down the rest of the base, we need to secure the reactors first. Simulate a leakage that will get everyone out of there and then lock it down,’ said Ahsoka urgently.

‘Good thinking, Snips. But there’s still the matter of saving the 501st from being annihilated,” he pointed out, looking back at the tactical holo.

The insectoid tanks burst out of the ground as they watched and used their bulk to crush numerous clones under their bellies and legs.

The clones scattered, sprinting to get out of the way, firing on the tanks as they scrambled for any cover behind trees and rocks.  

“Come on, use the rocket launchers, that’s what they’re there for,” Anakin mumbled under his breath as for six very long seconds the insectoid tanks cut a bloody swath as their numerous turrets sprayed plasma blasts in practically every direction.

Finally, a surviving Sapper got himself in position and popped out from behind a tree to send a missile directly into the front segment of the tank. 

It blew up impressively, turning the front of the thing to scrap and immediately the Umbaran holotank flashed a series of warnings, giving the small holographic representation of the tank a red hue and the label ‘non-functional’ and ‘pilot dead’.

That still left five more tanks, all of whom breached out of the earth at once in a curved formation.

The sheer volume of fire that filled the small valley was astonishing.

The clone troopers managed to rally despite this new major threat and not even a few seconds later, two more tanks died.

The three surviving tanks applied some tactics of their own at this point, coming together into a formation for mutual support.

Missiles were fired again but the numerous turrets and rate of fire meant that they were intercepted.

“Come on, Rex. They’re together now, you’ve got them,” Anakin encouraged, then he noticed Ahsoka was coding something into the Umbaran network with R2’s support. It didn’t take him long to deduce what they were doing. “Seriously, Snips?”

‘It’s a capability in all Umbaran war vehicles. Makes sense since they have such a low population and standing military. I’d imagine it's only used as a last resort.’

The holotank flashed a warning and now all three insectoid tanks registered as destroyed at once, thanks to a cunning trap with thermal detonators that Rex had placed in their way.

“There you go, Rex. So, how about I control one walker and you take another one?”

‘There is the matter of how Krell will perceive our intervention, master.’ 

“I don’t care at this point, I’m not letting my men die over this. Umbarans are infamous for their cunning and manipulation, he might just assume that it was infighting.”

‘Or we can just contact the Blades and tell them to take credit for this infiltration.’

“That can work as well. Now get us control of those artillery walkers.”

‘Done. I have the one at the back, you have the one in front of it.’

In his HUD a new window blossomed open, nearly completely filling his vision. He realized he was looking through another HUD of the Umbaran mobile heavy artillery walker. Just a glance at the various weapons and readouts told him that it was a very good thing that they were in control. The armor of the walkers were ludicrously thick, which combined with their shielding and anti-personnel weaponry made them a nightmare for anyone to fight on foot. Nothing the 501st had would take these things out unless they got very lucky.

He took a mental hand on the virtual controls R2 had so thoughtfully programmed for them and pushed forward.

The umbaran pilot immediately noticed something was wrong and began frantically pushing and pulling on his holo controls to regain control.

‘They’re completely locked out, master. No controls, no radio, nothing. They’re just along for the ride at this point.’

Anakin pushed for more speed and took a left, coming up behind an Umbaran walker.

The six artillery walkers were now out of the base proper and those in the front already had the 501st in range, but they weren’t firing for some reason.

He shook that notion off and enabled every weapon system on the walker. “You ready, Snips?”

‘Ready.’

“Go!”

He slewed the walker’s largest gun, the articulated EM plasma cannon down and hardly even needed the crosshair, before triggering it.

The umbaran pilot screamed in denial and despair as his own walker fired on his fellow.

The massive plasma bolt sheared through the thinner rear armor with little trouble before vaporizing internal components and other critical pieces.

The walker exploded with a tremendous green tinged fireball as the internal reactor released all its energy. Bits of armor, walker legs and fire soared into the sky.

Ahsoka’s remote controlled walker joined the party, firing her cannon with a more upward trajectory.

The giant plasma bolt arced over the enemy walkers to land right in the rear armor of the foremost walker, the one closest to opening up on the 501st with its anti-personnel laser cannons.

It also blew up in a rather satisfying manner.

The two remaining enemy vehicles were suitably caught flat footed by this turn of events.

He switched to the smaller lasers, whilst they waited for the main guns to recharge.

Two solid red beams scythed through the air and connected immediately with the enemy walker. The shielding shrugged it off easily but it did the job of keeping the pilots startled that few extra precious seconds.

Anakin and Ahsoka’s walkers fired again.

The entire valley was briefly lit with orange and green light as the last two walkers under enemy control exploded. The heavy debris felled trees instantly and the plasmatic fires caused their leaves to quickly burn.

He pulled back on the virtual controls to bring the walker to a stop. “You know Snips, we can’t stay in control of these things and if we let go, the pilots will resume their defense of the base. There’s also thousands of support personnel downstairs.”

‘Turn our respective walkers to face each other. We shoot at the count of three.’

Anakin sent a feeling of agreement and twisted the virtual controls to the right, causing the walker to turn on the spot. He lined up the cannon firing reticle right on the cockpit of Ahsoka’s walker.

‘Three… two… one… fire!’

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Rex had seen a lot in this war so far.

He prided himself on being able to roll with any punch the enemy could throw against him, whether they be clanker or otherwise. No matter how outlandish or fantastic or outnumbered, he knew that as long as he had his fellow brothers with him on the battlefield, they could be victorious.

Yet the sheer impossibility of the umbarans suddenly deciding to settle a score with each other like that… at the exact moment when they seemingly had the 501st dead to rights…

“What by the bloody void was that?” Fives asked, his helmet off and taking it in with his own eyes, as if he wasn’t sure somebody had hacked his visor.

Rex shook his head, “I don’t know, Fives and at the moment I don’t care. We’ve just been given a lifeline and an opportunity. Commander Tano would want us to pick up our jaws from the floor and take advantage of it immediately. So get that helmet on! We’ve got a base to capture!”

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• Fom is the SW equivalent of Hertz. Named after the Coruscanti scientist who pioneered EM spectrum reading and manipulation tech.

A/N: Things go so much better with an infiltrator on your side ;-) Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend. It'll be much better than my own at least. My house is now on day 8 of emergency water rationing after a local reservoir burst a major outlet pipe and the city is taking its sweet time fixing it. Luckily I'm enough of a prepper to have a 350L potable water tank. Stay awesome folks. *salutes

The Force Wills - Chapter 93

A/N: Sorry, but reading legalese on this means I can't put the relevant gif here or I might get giphy on my ass.

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He looked into the tactical holo of the capital city of Umbara, its environs and met the eyes of Obi-Wan, seeing his own disquiet mirrored there.

Anakin really didn’t like the intel black hole they were about to land in. Umbaran technical capabilities and weapons were extremely thin on details and RI had been scrambling to find out everything they could, with little to show for it. There had just been not enough time and he couldn’t help but feel that this entire invasion had been launched too quickly.

Ahsoka’s foresight had helped somewhat, but that was very much a lightsaber that had to be kept off and holstered, only to be used as a last resort.

The picture she painted was enough for him to conclude that the Republic Judiciary, like many things in the past two decades, had dropped the ball when it came to this planet. The Umbaran weapons were insidious, advanced, deadly and nightmarish. Now he had to lead the 501st straight into that grinder.

Here they were, in the cavernous bays of Acclamator T9485, surrounded by the senior leadership of the legions and they had to portray that nothing was wrong and that they weren’t leading these men into a technological terror trap.

The Umbarans, as a people, had planned for this day. When someone came for their technology and the science in their libraries and minds. There was no approach that was better or worse, it was all bad and horrific. Ahsoka had run probabilities for hours and found nothing that made any of this better with what they had on hand. No clever stratagem to outflank or shorten the battle and the only weakness was the Umbaran militia’s relatively low numbers.

The Umbaran people’s population was also low given the size of their planet. As a culture they actually emphasized a carefully managed population count. A holdover from a time when their technology hadn’t conquered nature and their food production was limited. It was only within the last century that the culture had begun relaxing these restrictions. 

“Masters Krell and Tiin will be supporting my troops in the east, the best primary approach that orbital scans have identified,” Obi-wan began the quick ad hoc briefing.  “General Skywalker’s battalion will come in from the north and cut off the main roads leading out of the city, preventing enemy reinforcements from sallying, which will naturally attempt to wheel around and flank our main line of advance. The southern approaches and our left flank will be interdicted from the air by saturation bombing from Y-Wings and Z95s in combat air patrols.

“We must conquer the capital as quickly as possible and hold it. Only then can we force an Umbaran surrender with their royal caste in custody. I need not impress on all of you that we cannot afford to fight a general resistance across the entire planet.”

Obi-Wan gave him a nod.

Anakin stepped forward and looked at all the nearly identical grizzled faces. “We are not fighting droids here. Throw away all notions of what you’ve experienced that can come from the Separatists. The Umbarans are new to the fight, there are few if any CIS tactical droids or officers here as far as we know. These are people who will be fighting for their homeworld, who may have advanced weapons or entirely new ones we don’t know about. If anything moves down there, assume it’s hostile. If an umbaran surrenders, you may also safely assume that they just want to get in a better position to kill more of you. We’re in no position to take prisoners, so stun any surrendering militia then leave them.”

“Understood, general,” said Rex for the clone leaders assembled.

“The one thing we’ve managed to prepare for this assault is an upgrade to your Phase 1 armor helmets,” Obi-wan continued. “The night vision has been significantly improved and can now filter automatically for the flashes of blasters and most explosions. This also means better contrast and there is no excuse for not using them.”

Most of the clones simply nodded, looking satisfied, though Anakin could hear Rex’s new deputy, Fives, grumbling under his breath about how it made the helmet heavier. Rex in turn simply gave him a subtle elbow to discipline his old comrade.

“Any questions?” Obi-Wan scanned the troopers with his eyes. “Good. To your gunships, liftoff in five minutes.”

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The Acclamators delivering the invasion forces decelerated from orbital velocity for a smooth insertion into the atmosphere of the planet.

They effectively encircled the capital in their approach, but this was just to keep the umbarans guessing as to where the invasion forces were landing for as long as possible.  

Ventral doors opened on all the ships and LAAT gunships began streaming out and into the cloudy perpetually dark sky, escorted by Z95s waiting in formation.

This was in furtherance to the deception, all the gunships coming from the west had no troops and would act purely as their name intended, blasting every target on the ground with missiles, blasters and collimated lasers.   

Anakin held on to the overhead grips with his right hand as his gunship was first rocked by turbulence, then the sizzling whine of plasma blasts that exploded with acid green flares of light.

The whine of Z95s shooting past, immediately releasing concussion missiles to target identified enemy AA positions.

The Acclamators' own AA networks were filling the airspace with fire, targeting freshly launched squadrons of Zenuas 33 fighters coming up from the capital to meet them.

Far from needing night vision, the skies became a strobing of blue, green and orange, as fire from both sides crossed each other and either missed or found their targets.

“That’s a lot of surface fire!” Fives shouted with some awe in his voice.

The gunship to their right suddenly exploded when something with a sharp electric tone cut through the air from the surface. All that was left was pieces of the central hull, which in itself was on fire in a way that Anakin had never seen. The debris swerved out of view and was swallowed by a cloud.

“General Skywalker!” The gunship pilot’s holo appeared in his helmet HUD. “My nightvision’s shot, I’m on instruments only and scanners are being affected by heavy ECM from the surface. We’re down to inertial reference. I can’t guarantee an accurate landing!”

Anakin tapped his com, “Just get us as close as you can, pilot.”

More high pitched electric plasma fire raced up from the surface, grazing one gunship and utterly obliterating another. 

Ahsoka appeared in his HUD and he felt her warming presence in the Force suddenly surrounding him. “Master, the Umbarans have thrown up an ECM jamming field that is causing havoc with targeting systems. Our missiles have to be steered in manually by astromechs and even the encryption links are being degraded by all this electronic soup.”

“So you’re saying our accuracy just went down the drain.”

“Yes, master. I’m working on countering it with Intel and R2 but it could take a while.”

“Understood.”

Her image winked out and her remote presence in the Force retreated. 

“Time to lock and load!” shouted an enthusiastic ARC trooper next to Fives, brandishing a Z-6 rotary blaster cannon, pulling on the charging handle.

In the rear of the gunship, a recon trooper climbed on the single AT-RT that could fit inside.

Anakin had rather mixed feelings on the vehicle. A single person walker with a chin mounted Maad 38 laser cannon that could run at over 75 kph over flat terrain. It was meant to operate in environments where speeder bikes struggled and repulsor fields were impossible or difficult to generate. They could jump and vault obstacles even. Yet it did nothing to protect the pilot, leaving the upper torso, head and arms of the user exposed.

The exotic forests surrounding the capital were exactly the terrain that would favor it. Its firepower would also come in handy for any Umbaran armored vehicles.

Ahsoka, on the other hand, outright hated the things. Going so far as to request that they dump the lot of them at the nearest scrap planet and divert those maintenance resources and money to acquiring the Naboo MLRS hover tanks.

He felt the gunship flare for a deceleration and reaching out with the Force he perceived they were cruising slow, just five meters above the ground.

“Recon elements go!”

The gunship’s rear ramp fell open, exposing the night to the interior for the first time. It was bitingly cold, but remained above freezing.

The AT-RT’s legs whined, reared up and the pilot pulled back on his controls, walking the vehicle backward to fall out of the gunship, where its legs easily handled the landing.

The gunship powered forward and Anakin felt its forward guns starting to fire rapidly into the enemy lines.

The side doors opened and he was treated to the sight of nearly 93 AT-RTs rapidly charging and firing their cannons.

The gunship raised its altitude and both collimated beam turrets swept their fire on a ridge line ahead. Destroying two odd looking Umbaran hover tanks in the process. They were clearly the source of the electrified plasma blasts that could take out a gunship with a single hit.

In that moment, Anakin felt Ahsoka’s battle meditation envelop his spirit and every trooper of the 501st.

The AT-RTs charged, weaving right and left, dodging fire as best they could, returning fire into the distance against the enemy.

An electrified plasma blast hit a walker and it collapsed immediately, melting and turning into a fiery inferno that killed the pilot mercifully quickly.

“Got a visual lock! Ha!” shouted the pilot.

The dorsal missile launchers cycled and obliterated two more tanks on the approaching ridgeline.

The AT-RTs rapidly closed distance with their opponents, even as more fell to either electrified plasma explosions or simple blaster hits from Umbaran militia.

The chin mounted cannons sent blue plasma blasts into the night; cutting enemy troopers in half or sending them flying with near-miss explosions.  

Four walkers dodged and flanked an Umbaran hover tank, which swiftly died in a fiery explosion when blasts hit the right side of the exposed rails of the massive plasma guns mounted on either side of the tank.

This happened all along the northern line of advance and Anakin grimaced as he felt the deaths of 32 AT-RTs just to achieve this first ridgeline.

The gunships could now land with the ridge itself as cover and he felt the thump through the hull as it landed.

A hop and jump later, his boots were digging into the loamy soil of Umbara, his lightsaber bursting into life immediately, casting its soft blue glow all over the immediate area. He stretched out with the Force, obviating any need for his eyes to see and maintaining battlefield awareness.

He led the charge as the troopers poured out of their gunships and within seconds an entire battalion was on the ground with weapons up and forming an advancing skirmish line.

Everyone fell prone just before the ridge and carefully crawled forward.

The opposing enemy opened fire immediately and mere moments later the clones replied in kind.

Anakin reached into the earth below with the Force, ripping out fifteen boulder sized rocks within a dozen meters.

Another thought had them spinning on their axes before he sent them surging forward at speed towards the enemy.

The kinetic strike crushed and injured every militia directly ahead of them.

“Go!” he ordered.

The 501st was well used by now to the benefits of Jedi support in a fight. They didn’t even blink or hesitate at the impossibility they just witnessed. They rose onto their feet, advanced forward and fired.

“Bravo company, detonators!” he called into the battalion frequency as he ran down the line.

The company in question, pulled grenades from their belts and threw them without hesitation towards the enemy.

144 grenades sailed into the air.

Through the Force, he gave each a boost to carry it towards the enemy defense line.

All of them detonated at once with a rapid concussive fury and briefly lit up the night.

“Go!”

The troopers charged and now with a huge section of the enemy line opened up, they poured through the gap.

One company wheeled left and another right.

Anakin charged forward in their wake, letting a brief burst of blurring Speed carry him to the front of the company as he turned right.

His lightsaber began its forms around his body as he deflected the inevitable attention it drew from the Umbaran militia.

They had dug a rudimentary trench here, just deep enough to kneel in and provide some cover to fight with.

It was easy to hop over and the umbarans had to frantically abandon it lest they become ‘fish in a barrel’. 

Anakin had to give them credit though, they fought even as they retreated and with good professional order. One would kneel, shoot, whilst the other rushed past him, then he in turn would kneel and shoot.

It did little though when your line was breached and you had the fire of an entire clone company from the 501st hitting you.

Militiamen fell with accurate fire and Anakin sent their blasts straight back to them.

He reached out with the Force to a platoon of militia that had found new cover behind a tree line.

Anakin raised his hand to focus and closed his fist, before he willed a Pull on every Umbaran weapon.

36 blaster rifles were flung out of the grasps of their owners to land in the open field before the tree line.

Anakin gave a forward gesture and the clone troopers advanced, firing into the trees.

He sensed the enemy platoon’s fear and astonishment, combined with Ahsoka’s effort over the entire battlefield, it broke the enemy morale thoroughly and they fell into an outright sprinting retreat.

“This is General Skywalker, we’ve broken through enemy lines. AT-RTs into the gap, now!”

The rapid clanking steps of walkers soon echoed through the area and they ruthlessly exploited the break in the line. Charging through and running up the trench lines, firing their cannons and even crushing militia with their feet.

“Battalion, advance!”

All along the line, troopers got to their feet, shouldered their weapons and at a low jog fired as they went.

“Echo company, turn your advance 15 degrees east. There's a large lifeform buried in your path that’s very hungry.”

“Yes, sir!”

“The rest of you keep your scanners and eyes peeled in that forest ahead of us, there will be traps. Let the scouts do their job. Sappers, scanners out.”

Anakin joined the line and confirmed that the troops were keeping their spacing proper.

Every third trooper pulled out a dedicated hand scanner. Another improvement Ahsoka had rammed through regs and procurement, was cross-training a select number of troopers to be what she called ‘sappers’ - whose job it was to find and defuse mines, traps or any such offensive technology that would be inevitably developed in the future.

There were clone regiments who were dedicated to engineering and clearing out fortifications, but they were usually sent in after battles were over or to build bases. Ahsoka wanted such combat engineering skills among the front line troops.

He had a nasty feeling that her insistence and months of planning was going to pay off here.

Their advance to the capital went on and let him realize that their initial drop was well short of what they had hoped to achieve. There were still eleven kilometers of rough terrain, forest and undoubtedly more defense lines to fight through before they even reached the city outskirts.

“General, report from our sappers,” Rex's voice piped in his helmet. “Enemy ECM is degrading their scanners, but not completely. Their range has been reduced to below fifteen meters.”

“It’s better than nothing at this point. Watch for active power signatures below 11 milliTara.” 

“I’ll pass it along, general.”

The battalion continued, passing over more defense trenches that had been dug but had no umbarans manning them.

In the far distance, the echoes of battle washed over the troops as the other battalions and regiments pushed through the enemy defenses.

Anakin couldn’t worry about the big picture to that extent and his own senses were focused on making sure his troops didn’t run afoul of the nasty underground critters that seemed to dot the entire area.

He didn’t know what to call them, but they reminded him of tiny versions of a Sarlacc and that alone meant he relished pointing them out and ordering grenades to be tossed down their gullets.

They continued their advance for another two kilometers, when Tau company on the far right flank reported that one of the major highways leading into the capital was a mere two hundred meters from them.

“Anything on that road?”

“Negative, general. No traffic.”

He spotted another line of empty trenches that were built into a hill approaching.

“All troops, hunker down in the trench,” he checked his chrono. “We’ll take a twenty minute breather, get some water down your throats.”

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They were close enough now that Anakin could easily use a macrobinocular attachment on his helmet to see the distant battle Obi-Wan’s troops were fighting.

A clone lieutenant rushed towards Rex and Anakin’s position. “General, report from all platoons. We’ve suffered 30 casualties and 44 injured. Most of those should be patched up by field medics with a bit of time, but five are critical and unable to continue the fight.”

“Detail two men with each medic to remain behind on those critical cases. If we have to move, there’ll be enough hands to carry them.”

“At once, sir.”

The captain quickly donned his helmet and rushed off.  

There were three minutes of rest remaining when he felt Ahsoka pushing on the Bond.

‘Skyguy, you have nearly 300 umbaran militia that just emerged from a tunnel four hundred meters behind you.’

‘Thanks,’ he felt rather bashful that he hadn’t picked up on it first, he had gotten too focused on the front. 

‘Be aware, we’ve gotten reports from Obi-Wan’s battalion. The umbarans are utilizing stealth droids that are barely twenty centimeters high and half a meter long, in insectoid shapes. They administer lethal electric shocks on contact.’

He sent an acknowledgement along the Bond and as casually as possible tapped Rex on the shoulder.

“Rex, ambush, 300, from behind. All troops be aware of stealth droids at ground level. We turn and engage when the umbarans reach 100 meters.”

The clone commander nodded grimly and immediately spread the word, with subtle taps on his comlink on the battalion frequency, creating patterned rhythmic distortions that every trooper would immediately pick up on and understand. It was entirely possible that the umbarans had broken the encryption at this point and it was standard procedure at this point for the 501st to assume that.

Anakin felt the alert level of the entire battalion rise up like a blazing fire. Rifles were primed and grenades readied.

He sent his senses roaming across the battlefield, trying to find those stealth droids.

There!

Thirty of the blasted things were skittering low along the ground, their low visual profile and color making them impossible to see with the naked eye. Even night vision would have trouble given how very little heat the things emitted.

They were mostly concentrated along the left flank, but small groups of these droids were racing toward the troops all along the line.

Their speed worried him the most and it would be extremely difficult for the clones to deal with in close quarters. The droids would kill thirty troops instantly, then more as every clone tried to shoot them, most of which would miss and even hit their fellows.

“Not going to happen,” he growled, reaching out to the Force.

Thirty individual fast moving targets was stretching his current Control abilities, but there was no time for doubt and hesitation.

He closed his eyes and raised a hand to aid his focus.

27 stealth droids rose into the air, their little sharp legs articulating frantically and uselessly.

The urge to snarl with anger at having missed three of them threatened his control, but he managed to stave it off.

He closed his hand and most of the stealth droids were crushed as the constricting telekinetic force slammed inward from every direction.

The night was lit with hovering sparks as multiple short circuits occurred.

“Now!” Anakin shouted, igniting his lightsaber and his feet carried him into a burst of Speed towards the three remaining stealth droids.

Every trooper whirled around in their trench and started firing in the direction of the incoming militia. The AT-RT pilots wisely didn’t get back on their mounts, staying in the trenches and firing into the enemy with their DC carbines.

The umbarans were briefly caught on the backfoot that their ambush had so spectacularly failed to catch their enemy off guard. The moment of counter-surprise and the sheer volume of fire from the clones meant he felt sixteen umbarans die instantly with a further 80 or so wounded.

At this point, he was a blur of movement, sending blaster shots back with deflections and reaching out to the remaining three stealth droids through the Force.

He felt 3 troopers die instantly as the droids latched on and delivered their lethal electric charge.

He managed to bully through the regret of his own failure, focus and his telekinetic grip seized the droids whilst they were still latched on to his three dead troopers.

His hand closed into a fist.

The droids died in a shower of blood as the forces also compressed the dead bodies of the troopers.

He dropped into the trench and keyed the entire battalion frequency.

“Grenade launchers!”

Every trooper with a DC-15A long rifle loaded their new underslung grenade launcher aimed upward and fired.

The endless night lit with hundreds of explosions.

Trees shattered into kindling, leaves caught fire, umbaran soldiers were flung into the air missing limbs or were completely incinerated.

“Advance and attack!”

The clone troops vaulted themselves out of the trenches and charged, firing as they went.

AT-RT pilots mounted their walkers and joined the charge.

Anakin ducked and weaved, passing underneath a flaming tree and swiped his blade through the blaster rifle of an umbaran before he stabbed the man through the chest.

The lightsaber easily passed through the umbaran personal armor - which he could immediately tell was quite advanced in comparison to standard Phase 1 trooper armor. Their heads were encased with sealed helmets and the entire front was made of a transparisteel variant that gave excellent peripheral vision, which included a HUD. There was also a visible green gas inside the helmet that definitely needed investigation after this battle.

He whipped his lightsaber directly out of the dead militia, deflecting the green bolt of another umbaran straight back to his face.

The transparisteel shattered and the umbaran screamed as the fragments buried themselves in his flesh and eyes.

A shot from a clone trooper blasted the umbaran in the chest and put him out of his misery.

An AT-RT burst through the foliage, firing its chin cannon in a sweep that caught four umbarans and sent them flying with the impact and missing large portions of their bodies.

The battle concluded so quickly that it left Anakin somewhat reeling. He realized that the cadence of fighting droids with seemingly never ending numbers had left him instinctively preparing for the same thing here.

“All troopers, check the bodies, confirm casualties and stun shots on them all.”

He had no idea what gas these men had been breathing and he didn’t want to take the chance of it being something that would come back later to ‘bite them in the ass.’

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“Commander?”

I opened my eyes, suppressing the urge to curse as Yularen inadvertently caused a slight hitch in my battle meditation.

Ideally, I should’ve been in a dedicated chamber near the bridge of the Resolute for this. With a full immersive command holo interface around me. The problem was, it would in turn isolate me too much from the crew who managed the starship I was in command of.

I thinned my battle meditation enough that it was still effective, yet allowed me the focus to actually maintain a decent level of conversation with my actual body.

My hand waved away the holo panels displaying real time battle data that surrounded my command chair. Things were generally well in hand anyway, with only Master Tiin’s troops still actively fighting.

The Umbaran capital was surrounded and cut off.

Whether it would stay that way and how bloody the fighting would be was another question.

The city had an oblong shape and was nearly 26 kilometers by 19 kilometers, with a total population of nearly three million people. Estimates for just how many trained militia there were were hopelessly optimistic. What no one had answered yet was how well armed that population was in general and how trained they were to resist an occupation.

Their caste system generally implied that we wouldn’t be dealing with an armed resistance movement immediately. The only way a caste system worked was if the top caste couldn’t be displaced by the disgruntled lower echelons of society. So there wouldn’t be a trained rifleman in every home.  

“Yes, admiral?”

“There is a communication from the Jedi Council for you.”

So it was that time.

I looked through the bridge viewports at the dimly lit capital city on the horizon.

A few taps on my armrest controls brought up the full body holo of Master Yoda.

“Padawan Tano, apologize for the interruption, I do.”

That he could tell I was applying battle meditation just by reading my body language, not even projecting his senses through the connection, was not surprising really. He even let me see that he was quite pleased with my current skill with the technique.

“Apology accepted, Master Yoda. How can I help you?”

“Recalling you and your master, to Coruscant, we are.”

“We are in the middle of a battle, Master Yoda.” I had to object for appearance’s sake.

“Aware of this, the Council is. Others there are, who can take over. Take Knight Skywalker’s post, Master Krell will.”

I gave Yoda a flat stare, “Forgive the blunt question, Master. I have little concentration to spare. Why?”

He gave a weary sigh and brought both his hands on his gimer stick. “Direct order from the chancellor, it is.”

Here was the crux of the matter. The Jedi Council could’ve flat out told Palpatine that his order was impossible at this stage of the invasion. It was trying to put the horse back in the barn. It was taking your best thoroughbred horse in a race and pulling it off the track. The fact that they didn’t do this was concerning.

It also meant that Palpatine had brought one hell of a card out to play and whatever that card was, it was something that they wouldn’t even risk saying over a military encryption holonet comlink.

What could that card be?

There was no way I could run any probability lines now and even if I could, they would probably all run smack into the wall of the Shroud.

“I trust the chancellor wouldn’t do something like this idly.”

“No, he would not.”

“Very well, Master Yoda. Master Skywalker and I will return to Coruscant as soon as possible.”

“Been exemplary, your service to the Jedi and Republic, Padawan Tano. Other battles there will be. Rest, when you can. Master Krell, already informed he has been. May the Force be with you.”

The holo faded away.

I sensed the battle around Master Tiin’s troops begin to die down with sporadic fire as the Umbaran militia retreated into the city.

With relief, I emerged completely from the battle meditation. I regained my equilibrium and rose from my command chair. “Admiral Yularen, send a gunship to pick up General Skywalker. I need to make preparations for our departure. The Resolute will remain here and provide all support possible to the 501st. We’ll take my Kom’rk fighter transport for the journey.”

“As you order, commander. But what could the chancellor be thinking? This is ridiculous. Recalling both the commanding officer and his deputy,” Yularen shook his head, his mustache twitching. “By the time you even reach Coruscant, this battle could be over.”

“Logistics is clearly the last thing he cares about at this moment,” I said honestly.

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Anakin practically stormed off the gunship before it had even set properly down onto the Resolute’s hangar bay deck.

“Snips! What bantha poodoo is this?” he asked, stomping past me towards the turbolift.

I fell in stride next to him, resigned to our little drama we were playing for the sake of the visual sensors. “I honestly don’t know, master. Master Yoda was not forthcoming at all on the possible reason for this.”

We strode into the turbolift and Anakin angrily thumbed the controls.

The doors closed and we were sent off to the officers' decks. “I don’t like leaving the 501st in Krell’s hands, Snips. I’ve done a bit more research on his tactics thus far in the war and it’s…” He bit off the words he was going to say. “He has little to no regard for the lives of the clones under his command.”

“Oh, one of those,” I grimaced. “There’s unfortunately nothing we can do, Master. We have our orders.” My mind reached out. ‘Skyguy, everything is almost ready, you just need to grab your travel bag and leave your lightsaber.’

I could tell he really didn’t like the idea.

‘Really wish we could’ve just gone with a secondary lightsaber.’

‘Skyguy, running around with a red saber-’

‘Yes, yes, this is just Obi-Wan’s training talking. Are you sure this is going to work?’

‘Again, yes. Things can go wrong, but nothing we can’t work around or recover from.’

The lift came to a stop and the doors parted. “R2 and Chewie are already preparing the ship, we should be ready to leave by the time you get to Bay 1, master.”

“Got it.”

He power walked out and I thumbed the controls to divert the lift in that direction.

My hand curled into a fist involuntarily as the probability line shifted in front of me, unfurling in its ugly glory.

Despite my efforts, the 501st was not going to come out of the Battle of Umbara without deep wounds that could all be laid at the big feet of Master Krell. That bloody prejudicial, orthodox, stubborn minded besalisk was going to get a lot of good men killed before this was over. I was very tempted to wring his blubbery neck myself but that would not lead to anything remotely good.

The sad fact of the matter was that Krell was not a singular example, but rather a faction within the Order that was steadily gaining traction the longer the war continued. Within that faction a kernel of rot was growing; Jedi who were enamored of conflict and getting seduced by the power they wielded.

It was something I had to watch out for in myself and everyone in Fulcrum.

There was a danger that we would become simply a new manifestation of the Star Cabal during the times of the Old Republic. An organization nobly founded to preserve civilization against the ravages of the ancient wars between Jedi and Sith.

They eventually also succumbed to corruption and the lure of power, their purpose changing to wipe out both Jedi and Sith, uniting the galaxy in peace under the common citizen. That was the goal on paper, but in execution it just became another hidden faction manipulating and vying for power over the entire galaxy. They used money, technology and control over information as their weapons, but also had a wetworks division which employed spying, torture, manipulation of individuals and organizations, hacking, sabotage and even organizing massacres for the media to change public sentiment.

It seemed every organization with sentients as their members always succumbed eventually over time to these predations.

What could be done to make sure Fulcrum didn’t fall into this cycle?

I’d destroy it myself if I perceived it becoming as corrupted as the Star Cabal in the future.    

Yet, that was still just part of the cycle.

How could it be broken?

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The heaving of lungs and weary legs was never a good sign.

Rex was one of the fittest of the 501st, but after two full battles, kilometers of running and marching, with the constant stress of potential ambush and combat rearing its head at any moment for nearly five hours, he had to admit he was flagging.

He buried the thought quickly, thinking about it would only make things worse.

“This isn’t some training course on Kamino, battalion. Hurry,” Krell ordered from the front of their column.

Naturally, the besalisk Jedi wasn’t phased at all from the exertion. His heavy steps echoed through the small dark gully the 501st was walking through, only drowned out by the mechanical footfalls of the AT-RTs.

Pong Krell towered over every clone at more than two meters tall, with four heavily muscled arms that seemed thicker than Rex’s own waist. The lower two arms were even armored with gauntlets that had red Jedi emblems on them. His beady yellow eyes unnerved Rex and there was an oppressive menace to the Jedi Master’s presence that was hard to put a finger on.

With General Skywalker and Commander Tano, you felt as if you had a comrade and fortress at your back, watching over you. They would see you through every hardship and pull you up by your arms should you ever fall. You felt like you could achieve anything when they were with you, no matter how crazy.

“The new general certainly has a different way of doing things,” Fives commented.

Rex glanced at his comrade with annoyance. “He’s just trying to keep us on schedule. A change in command in the middle of a campaign is not something easy to manage.”

“Raising our ire is not going to help with that.”

“He’s in charge and we’ve got a job to do. We treat him with respect and do our part, we’ll get through this.”

“Movement! Incoming 300 high!”

Rex raised his rifle up and to his left, scanning the exotic trees towering over them.

There!

It was another flock of those flying beasts the troopers had taken to call Munchers. 

They were almost as large as a man, two large sharp underslung claws, flapping delta shaped wings with green bioluminescent underbellies that also had a tail that could easily impale someone who wasn’t armored at least.

How the umbarans could live with these beasts in the air, flying in the darkness overhead, only they knew.

He drew a bead on the lead Muncher, led the target a bit and squeezed the trigger.

The sky was filled with blaster fire lancing upward, as the entire forward column of the battalion opened fire.

Rex switched targets and downed another before his helmet scanner and night vision could see no more of them.

The forest rang with thumps as the dead beasts rained down on the canopy, cracking branches and finally hitting the earth. Some got entangled completely and were halted in the branches, filled with smoking holes.

General Krell hadn’t even moved to draw his own massive lightsabers. He simply gazed around at the troopers as weapons were lowered and raised a brow. “Good, keep moving.”

Rex hurried up the column and walked next to the Jedi who towered over him by more than a full head. It was distinctly intimidating but he forged ahead anyway.

“General Krell, the leeward side of this ridge will make a good spot for the men to make camp.”

“The men don’t need rest, captain. They need the resolve to complete the task at hand,” Krell said, his deep voice sneering.

“But sir-”

Krell interrupted his reasonable explanation, trying to point out that clones were not Jedi. “CT-7567, are you reading me?”

Rex hadn’t been called that for so long by a commanding officer, he had almost forgotten the damn thing. He was so startled by it that he stupidly said, “Excuse me, sir?”

“I asked you a question, CT-7567,” Krelled folded his upper set of arms. “Do you understand the need to adhere to my strategy?”

Rex changed tactics, as he had a feeling comparing clone against Jedi stamina wouldn’t go over well with Krell. “Sir, this terrain and fauna are extremely hostile. Despite the difficulty and conditions, the men are making good time. They just need another break to get their breath back and some rations in their bellies.”

Krell stopped walking and turned in Rex’s way, bent over and poked his chest plate with a large finger. “Captain, do I need to remind you of this battalion’s strategic mission in conquering this planet? Look back.” That was a direct order and so Rex obeyed, seeing the long line of staggered troopers in their stained and dirty white armor. “All those platoons, their mission is to draw in the defenders of this city so it can be taken swiftly. Time and rest are luxuries the Republic cannot afford. We are the key to this invasion. The other battalions are counting on us. If we fail, everyone fails! Do you understand?!” Krell looked up, addressing everyone in earshot. “Do all of you understand this?” He didn’t even bother waiting for a reply, his anger palpable as he turned around and kept walking, “Now move on.”

Rex became aware that the rest of the 501st had stopped, clearly waiting for his command and not some interloper.

He had always felt himself equal to the burden of command, but for some reason, here and now. That weight settled on his shoulders like never before.

Rex nodded to them and continued the march.

The 501st followed.

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The Kom’rk fighter-transport that jumped its way into hyperspace had been given the name Omen. 

My hand left the hyper motivator lever and I sat back to review all the holographic readouts that floated in front of me. I went through the checklist, forcing myself to pay attention in the moment and not get lost in worries and what ifs. Not to mention finding the brain trust who had decided to give this ship such an ominous name.

“Rex is a good warrior, Ahsoka,” Chewie rumbled from the co-pilot seat. He had gotten used to the hybrid of physical and holo controls with impressive speed, as his hands flitted through the holograms and manipulated them. “He will survive and lead his men to victory.”

“I hope you’re right, Chewie,” I said, getting up from the pilot’s chair and exiting the cockpit.

As I climbed down the ladder to the mid-deck troop area, I reflected that all the extra training I had been giving the 501st since the war began was with this sort of unfavorable scenario in mind. I wanted all of them to be crack shots, with the best blaster rifle that I could give them, favoring the DC-15A and S. There would be no using that stupid carbine on a planetary battlefield. They’d have sappers, snipers and dedicated anti-armor and anti-air heavy troopers.

Krell could do what he wanted and my troopers would still be alive at the end of it, just to spite his prejudicial, hateful fat ass.

Anakin was out of his armor, back in more traditional Jedi attire, but had gotten rid of the robe and outer jacket, only wearing the inner tunic and leggings. He knelt next to the centerpiece of equipment my clan had brought from Mandalore and was fiddling with an open panel, checking the readings against a datapad in his right hand.

The interface chair hadn't visually changed much since I had last used it to control a droid body on Dathomir, but I knew there had been improvements in the guts of the machine.

“Everything check out to your exacting standards, Skyguy,” I teased.

“So far,” he grunted, sticking his nose back into the chair’s access panel. “The program governing these capacitance relays could use an improvement, just a few tweaks and we could make this thing much more compact. The hypercom-”

“Master, it works. I’ve done it. We don’t have the time for you to reinvent the thing before you use it.”

He sighed in annoyance, tapped a few buttons and closed the panel up. “Fine. Everything looks… adequate.”

He hopped on the chair, which immediately lit up as it sensed a user seated in it. His hands working the armrest controls with smooth confident dexterity.

I smiled fondly. So typical, he’d read through the user manual and other schematics on the way to Umbara and he used the thing like it was second nature already.

“You want to go already?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said immediately. “I realize I can’t just take over command back from Krell, but I can infiltrate my way into enemy lines, sabotage them, and help the 501st that way until the time is right.”

I lifted my helmet off and put it down next to the interface chair. Then picked up the interface circlet mounted on the back rest. “This is going to feel weird, Skyguy. There might be some body dissociation and you need to first get used to the fact that you have durasteel and kinetic motivators instead of flesh and blood.”

My left hand smoothed out his hair before I pushed the circlet down on his head. “That comfortable?”

“Somewhat.”

“Did you go to the fresher?”

“Yes, Snips,” he rolled his eyes.

“Good,” I walked around so I could look him in the eyes. “Also realize that if you take too long in there I’m going to have to hook up the plumbing for you.” I made a fiddling gesture, pointing between his legs.

His eyes widened and he coughed uncomfortably, “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll remember to disconnect before that becomes necessary.”

I couldn’t help my smirk and walked up to the control terminal for the chair. A few keystrokes and the systems began synchronizing. “Engaging hypercom relay, signal strength at 96%. Our link to Resolute is stable. Linking to the droid… and linked. We’re about ready as we can be, master.”

Anakin nodded, concentrating and closing his eyes. “Do it.”

“Assuming control in 3… 2… 1… now.”

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Anakin opened his eyes gasping and further panicked when he realized he couldn’t breathe for some reason.

The input from his senses were strangely disjointed, his sight was blurry, struggling to come into focus, he heard the loud clanging of machinery and the hum of starship grade repulsorlifts blasting into his ears… 

No he didn’t have ears…

His heart felt like it should’ve been racing, speeding up, he was frightened out of his wits after all… only he didn’t have a heart.

‘Easy Skyguy, there was a glitch in the sync, signal lag, it’s clearing up now.’

Where did that voice come from? Who was that? He knew it.

Something shifted and what felt like the entire world slammed down on him; his sight normalized, hearing returned to normal and he remembered… Oh.

He looked down and regarded skeletal hands of durable superalloy metal attached to similar arms, surrounded by armor cladding. A large blanket fell off his metal body. An armored chest with numerous holographic emitter studs all over. Powerful armored legs ending in surprisingly human shaped skeletal feet and even toes.

“Snips, I look like an assassin droid from some nightmare. No wonder you kept it covered.”

‘Good, body dysmorphia won’t be an issue then.’ Her voice was coming through the Bond, but he was also technically hearing it in his actual ears aboard the Omen. ‘Yes, HK had a hand in designing this one. Something about how if I wanted to ditch my frail meatbag body, even temporarily, that I should get a chassis that is worthy of me. You know how he is.’

Anakin sat up, hearing the soft whirring of droid motivators as he did so and flung his legs over the side of the small cot he had awoken. He carefully tested his balance. Everything came back fine and he chanced standing up, nearly bumping his head against the low ceiling of a port side escape pod of the Resolute.

‘Things look good, so far,’ Ahsoka reported. ‘I’m enabling further inputs.’

His vision was suddenly inundated with a HUD showing readouts from the sensors of the droid body and the status of other systems.

“A little too much there, Snips.”

‘Ah, yes, sorry, I’ll trim it down.’

His vision cleared significantly and now it reminded him more of his own Aegis HUD, with a few more options added.

It also allowed him to see his lightsaber patiently waiting on the opposite cot of the pod. He leaned over and picked it up.

He felt another sense of disconnect from his current body vanish. Through the Force itself he felt the connection to a much better degree now. He banished doubt and focused… 

The lightsaber began floating above his mechanical palm, turning left, right, spinning and flipping. 

‘Amazing isn’t it, Skyguy? You can do anything with the Force through the holodroid that you can do with your true body. Aren’t you glad now that you completely learned Remote Alter through various connections from me now?’

“Yes, Snips. I bow to your amazing foresight,” he said sarcastically. “Let’s get going shall we?”

He scrolled through the holo disguises available in his HUD and selected standard ARC trooper for the moment.

The emitters blinked all over his body before a dynamic high definition holo of an ARC trooper with the rank of lieutenant flashed into existence.

Satisfied he stepped forward and released the interface spike from his palm, stabbing it into the logic slot of the escape pod’s computer. It was the work of a few minutes to isolate the pod from the ship, then trigger the pod to shoot itself away from the Resolute.

He didn’t bother going to the manual controls behind him, as the pod shuddered from the acceleration. It was far more efficient to just control it with this direct interface.

Thrusters and repulsors guided the pod’s trajectory straight towards the Umbaran capital city.

He’d be worried about getting shot down normally, but it was easy to bring the pod to skim the trees and in this case the blanket Umbaran jamming was also serving to hamper their own targeting locks.

He flared the pod, extending its landing legs and touched down in a small gully.

The pod’s doors opened and he vaulted himself outside into the darkness of Umbara.

His vision immediately went to a high fidelity night vision, not that he really needed it and he regarded his position.

He was slightly behind Republic front lines around the city; he would need to infiltrate through those lines and beyond if he wanted to be of any use.

He stowed his lightsaber inside a hidden compartment of the holodroid’s leg and began running.

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A/N: Technically being in two places at once can be so useful. Hope you enjoyed the chapter and happy weekend. Stay awesome folks.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 27

Bakuda had seemingly arrived in Brockton with only the tech and clothes on her back.

Her remaining funds were wads of cash folded securely into pockets of her long jacket, which neatly explained her reluctance to even take it off, when I pushed her into the upstairs bathroom to get cleaned up.

Judging by her smell, she’d gone for more than a week without any shower.

“Don’t exactly have the time for that when you’re on the run,” she grumbled as she stripped off her clothes, struggling with her shoes quite a bit, thanks to the tech she wore around her toes. Which turned out be an ingenious little activation switch for her bombs, nicely giving the impression that she could set off her tech with her voice or even her will alone.

I folded my arms as she seemed reluctant to remove her underwear in front of me. Her actual face was actually quite ordinary, leaning towards the attractive and exotic side of the spectrum. Her hips and legs were quite nice and toned, with a slight belly and barely there A-cup breasts that reminded me of my own before my trigger.

“Off it goes, I need it for your measurements,” I said impatiently, making hither gestures.

She grunted, her dark eyes shining with anger, before unclipping her bra and pushing down her panties.

I grabbed the underwear, giving her a once over look, “Okay, be right back.”

I misted and after an eight minute flight reappeared outside the doors of a women’s clothing shop on the Boardwalk. This one was pretty good and not the typical outrageously overpriced strips of cloth that were sold by the designer shops with brand labels all along the Walk.

My next issue was dealing with a slightly awestruck store clerk and a new demonstration of my growing rep.

"Oh, Escort! What… uh, brings you to the shop?” the clerk asked breathlessly. She was young and pretty herself, as most stores on the Walk just naturally gravitated towards employing the attractive.

“Just trying to help a new colleague. Need five sets of underwear in this size,” I held up the bunched panty and bra, and rattled off the sizes from the partially faded labels.

The clerk visibly winced at seeing the soiled garments. “Of course, any preference on label, price and type?”

“Four sets of daily wear, medium price range and one set of lingerie, black, I’ll splurge on this one, so it can be from Secrets. Then two shirts, one blouse, three sets of denim jeans. Oh, and a bin to dump the underwear.”

The clerk helpfully brought the bin to relieve me of Bakuda’s underwear before getting a selection of purchases for me to look at.

“Sorry to bother, Escort?”

I leaned on ‘15 and turned around to see a middle-aged woman with long dark blonde hair and green eyes, giving me an awkward half smile. Her eyes didn’t really know where to settle on me and her aura was a mixture of astonishment, along with quite a few indicators that she really liked what she was seeing.

“Yes, ma’am? How can I help?” I asked in my best friendly voice.

“My son and husband are both big cape fans and could I get an autograph?”

I nodded and whipped out two shiny cards and a collapsible pen from ‘15s pouch. “Anyone specific or just the signature?”

“Josh Wright, my son and Albert Wright, husband.”

‘To Josh Wright, from Escort’ I wrote in a flourish along with the stylized signature I had developed for this persona.

I handed over the cards and she held up her phone, “Selfie?” she asked with a hopeful look.

Her aura told me this was definitely for herself and that she batted for both teams. I hoped her husband knew at least.

I nodded and she stepped next to me holding up her phone. She made sure to hold it out far enough and angle it in a manner that it just captured everything from my hips and up, just barely managing to get my pussy in frame.

My ears picked up a disgusted scoff and I spotted another woman, again middle-aged, just chucking her potential purchase to the floor and marching out the door.

“Some people,” Mrs. Wright rolled her eyes.

The clerk returned and I was whisked away to consider the best clothes for Bakuda. I didn’t want to go overboard, just stuff she could comfortably wear in the meantime. I ended up paying with an expense credit card I had in Fortress’ name.

I gave Jodie the clerk an autograph and selfie after I had paid, before grabbing the shopping bag and walking out the front doors.

Here my presence naturally created a greater stir.

I could’ve just misted in the store and been on my way, but I had honestly missed this place. At this point, it had been years since I had any reason to truly visit. After Emma and with money always being tight since mom’s death, I had never done any fancy shopping or even just some window shopping. The latter was only really fun with friends or at least some acquaintances by your side.

Did I really have the rep and confidence for this yet?

There was only one way to find out as I ignored my twisting stomach and turned right to move towards the ocean.

My walk was accompanied by gasps, wide eyes, nervous laughter, the occasional wolf whistle from men, gaping mouths, disgusted sneers, girlfriends and wives glaring daggers at boyfriends and husbands, the inevitable gawkers with phones filming me.

I ignored it all, firmly pretending there was nothing wrong, strange or weird about it as I indulged in a very long overdue bit of window shopping. Bakuda could have a nice long bath for all I cared at that moment, plus she still had her tech and old clothes.

My pace was firmly kept casual and it wasn’t long until I had a small mixed crowd of men, women and teens following me.

My focus was just on what I was seeing through the shop windows and the iron on wood tap of ‘15 with every other step.

“Ellie, seriously?” I caught over the din.

A girl who looked in her middle school years broke the half circle the crowd had kept around me, coming closer with a glossy printout of one of my posters from Leet’s website. It neatly reminded me that I needed to have a serious talk with the villain the next time we met for some fun.

“Escort, can I get-” Ellie asked plaintively.

“Sure,” I smiled, allowing my hair to part slightly just so the side of my mouth was visible.

A quick signature later and she grinned, admiring the poster briefly, “Big fan, well, thank you…” She hurried away with a wave, returning to her friend in the throng.

That was the signal for others to pluck up their courage. I ended up signing another poster from a blushing teenage boy who’s eyes didn’t know where to settle on me, a college aged guy who only had a till slip, which I substituted for one of my cards, then a young girl. It didn’t take long until I had run out of cards.

I firmly stopped the impromptu signing at fifteen signatures before shooing off the remaining hopefuls and resuming my walk.

When I reached the end of the Boardwalk, with only a railing to separate me from the Atlantic ocean, I leaned with my forearms against it and looked out over the bay and breathed in the saltwater air, letting the sound of waves crashing against the stilts below wash over me.

“Fucking help me! Get out of the way! Arggh!”

The shout reached my ears and I wanted to growl in annoyance that the moment had been ruined, but the awareness of all the phones still recording stopped me.

I immediately misted and zoomed up in the air briefly before coming back down and materializing on the other side of the crowd to see what was going on. Giving a number of people, who just happened to see it, a rather large shock.

I myself was rather shocked at what I was seeing coming down the Boardwalk, chasing after a young guy.

It looked like an abomination from a horror movie that stood over ten feet tall. It was generally humanoid, but the grotesque nature of its elongated limbs and a huge mouth that had rows of shark teeth in it was something out of some nightmare. Even worse, it had no eyes at all, just two dark voids in empty eye sockets. At first my heart wanted to jump out of my chest as I thought I was looking at SCP-096 manifested in the middle of the crowded Boardwalk, but the ragged clothing and the huge machete it wielded put paid to that notion.

The guy himself had a wooden baseball bat and was occasionally fighting back by swinging at the creature.

Even as I watched the bat slammed against its leg and it screeched in pain, allowing the harried guy to make some distance between him and the creature.

“What’s the matter with you all?! Run!” he screamed at everyone around him.

The reaction of the crowd was immediately confusing as they all recoiled from the guy, but none of them even looked at the monster creature even as it roared in anger at the sky.

My True Sight opened reflexively and it told me one thing, confirmed by the fact that the creature walked straight through a line of intervening people without them even flinching.

Only he and I could see the SCP creature.

Then I saw a second fact, only he could interact or touch the creature.

If I tried to hit it with ‘15 or if I tried to punch it, it would just phase through.

The idea that an SCP could be so targeted on someone specifically in this manner was not an unknown concept to me, but they were rare even in Foundation Earth as far as I knew.

There was only one idea that hit me in the few seconds I had as the creature stopped its melodramatic shout to the heavens and resumed the curiously slow chase of its target.

I transferred my shopping bag to hook onto ‘15 and misted, zoomed forward in an instant, materialized only my hand, latched onto the victim’s shoulder and misted him with me.

My will carried us high into the sky.

He screamed in fright as his unprepared senses were bombarded with novel experiences.

Everyone, i.e. Henry, Shauna, Dad and Theo, who had gone for a ride with me this way, reported that it was very disconcerting, likening it to being disembodied, unable to do anything, yet their senses still somehow worked and were hyper tuned to eleven. The only way I knew he was screaming was through my True Sight.

I stopped our flight at three hundred feet altitude to keep the creature in sight.

It had stopped its implacable advance, its eerie screams faded as it lowered the machete.

Then it raised its head to stare unerringly at our position.

Fuck, I thought.

Skeletal wings burst from its back, spreading out as wide as a small plane. The wings flexed once before the SCP shot into the sky with a ghastly scream, machete raised and poised to strike.

It took all my will and reflexes to dodge in time, before I immediately ghosted forward at my current top speed of just under 200 mph.

I did realize another fact as the world began to streak by below me.

The SCP hadn’t swung at me for enabling its prey to get away. It was still fixated on the guy. My helping him didn’t matter at all to it.

A look behind me showed the creature was keeping pace.

It swung its machete menacingly through the air, as if rehearsing for what it was going to do to its victim.

Fuck, what was I going to do? I couldn’t keep this chase going forever and using any form of my beginner level ontokinesis on the fly was just asking for even worse things to happen.

I needed information… I needed to talk to this guy and figure out what he did to get an SCP like this on his ass.

Right now he was in pure fight or flight mode, his wits scrambled and little reasoning was going on.  

I spread out my mind web as far as I could, the SCP wasn’t close enough yet to try mastering the thing, but I held little hope I could influence it that way. My focus instead turned to the guy and it was even easier in this form to master him.

His fight or flight mentality faded away immediately and was quickly replaced with the eager devotion and arousal.

Next problem to solve, we had to be able to actually talk without the high speed wind stealing away our words.  

There was only one way and I turned towards the ocean, aiming for southern beaches of the Bay.

We were now speeding along the narrow strip of beach sand at a low altitude, so I at least could try to find a spot that didn’t have anyone to witness this.

Brockton’s beaches were hardly anything to write home about. The few open to the public that existed within city limits were barely maintained and only a few had lifeguards, the rest of the coastline was too rocky to really count.

I found a suitable spot two miles from the last public beach in the south. Here there were a lot of craggy rocks with only ten feet of beach before you hit a cliff face. On top of that cliff was a nice flat bit of land with a small forest of trees. It even looked like someone had begun developing the area, given the remnants of earthworks present, but it was long ago and nature had begun reclaiming it.

I willed us to a stop on the best bit of solid grassy earth I could find and materialized both of us.

“Your name,” I demanded immediately as the creature stopped in the air a mere fifteen feet from us, giving an eerie intimidating screech.

“Alex Ross, mistress,” he said immediately, his eyes wide open, drinking in my form and not caring one whit that he was about to become a shish kebab.

“Keep your bat up, eyes on the enemy and get ready to fight!”

“Yes, mistress,” he obeyed immediately, suddenly handling that baseball bat with greater dexterity and fluidity. He bounced on the balls of his feet, eager for the fight to come.

Alex had skin and face that suggested a Mediterranean ancestry, maybe Portuguese, dark eyes, short styled, curly hair and barely there goatee beard. He wasn’t in the best shape but seemed semi-active and in his mid to late thirties. He was wearing pretty high end sneakers on his feet and the loose white designer t-shirt and black denim jeans. So at least nothing that would impede his fighting ability.

The creature swooped in, trying to bisect Alex at stomach level.

I selectively misted both our legs and this made it much easier to dodge.

Alex even managed to slam his bat onto the SCP’s back as it passed us.

It screeched in pain and whirled around, its skeletal wings flexing and pushing against the air.

I had to be careful to moderate the strength of my left hand clamped onto his shoulder, “Your address?”

“Parker Avenue 23, Apartment 139!”

He managed to say the last number before we had to dodge again.

The creature spun in mid-air, using its wings to attempt to clothesline Alex’s head off.

I pulled us down with millimeters to spare and his bat scored another hit on the wing itself.

The SCP crashed onto the earth, plowing a rough trough as it spent its momentum.

My brain struggled with the notion that it could affect the world in this way, but somehow remain immune to anything I did. It was a complete non-entity according to my mind web, there was nothing to grab a hold of there. Whatever dimension it was hiding its actual body in was shielding it. Even if there was a mind, I doubted this thing even had a sexual thought, let alone anything between its legs hidden beneath those rags.

It slowly got up with a moaning screech, its right wing was completely busted, barely hanging on to a sliver of cracked bone. The SCP shook its back with annoyance and both wings fell off it, like an antler shedding its horns.

It pointed its machete at Alex in a clear challenge.

Its next movement was so quick that I barely had time to react.

The machete shot from its hand as if launched from an air cannon, seeking to spear Alex straight through the chest.

Somehow, he managed to deflect it with the baseball bat. Merely twisting and rolling his wrists after holding the bat much like a sword.

The machete spun off to the side, but before it could fall to the ground, it stopped itself in midair and returned to the right hand of the SCP.

What bullshit! If it can do that, surely it can simply use that thing to slice Alex to ribbons. Yet the SCP didn’t do what was most efficient, it simply charged us again.

Alex brought the bat up and deflected the machete, stopping it from cleaving his head in two, but followed that up with an impressive riposte that slammed into the SCP’s chest. The skin deformed but the bones beneath didn’t crack.

He next used the bat’s bounce off the SCP’s chest to economically spin it into another swing which slammed into the creature’s knee.

This was enough to actually force it off balance and roar in pain.

Alex didn’t let up and I wholeheartedly agreed with the notion, pushing us forward as he delivered another blow to the other knee.

That finally put the SCP on its back and I hovered us forward to bring its head into reach.

“For the mistress!” he screamed and slammed the bat down over and over.

His war cry had me gaping somewhat and feeling slightly honored.

Then between one swing and the next, the SCP vanished.

Alex’s final swing slammed into the ground, kicking up a tuft of dust.

“Ouch, ow, ow, ow,” he dropped the bat and flexed his hands to get rid of the pain from his overextended wrists.

I materialized both our legs so we could stand normally but my mind was racing to make sense of what had happened to the SCP.

If it had died, it would’ve left a body, logically speaking. It was possible that it had simply become invisible even to True Sight but that didn’t feel right. It was there one moment and there had been a brief flash, it had happened so quickly that my eyelids blinking had obscured the event. It almost reminded me of something, but it remained frustratingly out of reach on why that effect tickled something in my mind.

“Alex, do you have any idea where that thing came from?”

“Yes, mistress. It came from the game.” Alex’s sweaty face smiled as he picked up the bat and let it rest on his shoulder casually. Then he turned to me and bowed his head, keeping his eyes fixed on my feet.

“What game?”

“Professor Ghoul’s Terrifying Horror Challenge, mistress,” he answered sheepishly.

Could this perhaps be another Dr. Wondertainment product that had ended up in Brockton? No, those were mostly meant for children and not chasing you across a city with a monster like that only you could see.

“In what form did this game come?” 

“Oh, it’s a Nintendo game, you know? The old style cartridges that you put into the NES.”

Any deficiencies I might’ve had in gaming history had long since been rectified by being very often in the presence of Uber and Leet, not to mention having a ton of time to kill in the evenings. I had gotten sick and tired of hearing those two blabbering and arguing with each other, with me in the room and not a single idea what they were talking about.

“Okay, so you put the cartridge into the system, then it started manifesting that creature you were fighting?”

“Oh no, mistress. That was just level 18. The previous seventeen levels had all sorts of challenges. Just the previous level I had to kill four people that were trying to kill me. This bat was also given to me by the game.”

“These people were generated by the game?” I asked anxiously.

“Of course, mistress. I normally couldn’t hurt a fly, but this game has been… instructive on what I’m truly capable of, perhaps because of all the near-death experiences.”

His normal emotional range was being dragged by my mastery into remaining upbeat and pleasant. Anyone else would’ve been deep in the throes of trauma, PTSD, depression and anxiety at this point.

My eyes turned to the bat and now that I looked close I could see definite SCP bullshit going on in its properties.

That was when I felt it.

The sickening feeling of the void, reality being turned into a pretzel and reshaped before snapping back into a new form of ‘normal’.

It was happening all around me but stopped just short of my skin.

In the blink of an eye, the world around me and Alex had changed.

We were now in a featureless concrete room, with no windows or doors.

“Shit, a new level has started, mistress, and I’m somewhat in a bind,” he commented.

I nearly jumped out of my skin to see that he was being literal. In the few milliseconds I’d been distracted by the void event, his bat was gone and now he was on his knees and cuffed with his hands behind his back and leg irons around his ankles.

I immediately knew that I wasn’t properly included in this environment, because my feet were phased through the floor and still touching grassy earth.

With an annoying yet cheerful ping a large blackboard appeared on one of the walls and a piece of chalk levitated in front of it, then began writing in a florid hand as if someone invisible was standing there.

My eyes strained to focus on the unseen and yet it revealed nothing. In no dimension or spectrum I could perceive was there anything in front of that blackboard. I was seemingly just a witness to this game and only actually seeing it because of my own nature and abilities as an SCP.

‘Welcome to Level 19 of Professor Ghoul’s Terrifying Horror Challenge! Well done for making it this far and especially for finding the help of an ally! In your next challenge your task is very simple - don’t submit. If you can do that for 30 minutes you will have completed the level. Good luck!’

The chalkboard vanished even as my mind digested those ominous words.

If this entire thing didn’t stink of SCP ontokinesis I’d have been flying over to Leet to have words… very angry words.

A steel door appeared out of the concrete walls and in walked a tall man in a formal black suit and tie. His leather black shoes gleamed with a mirror shine in the impossible overhead lighting that came from nowhere. His face was utterly neutral and normal, the kind where you wouldn’t look twice if this guy walked past you on the street. It was his eyes that caught the attention though.

They burned with an eager hunger and desire, which looked upon Alex with anticipation.

I suppressed my first instinct to blast the guy with ‘15.

Just like everything else related to this SCP, I couldn’t interact or do anything to it.

The suit stepped in and the door vanished behind him. He held out his hand and now it was holding the square black plastic casing of a self-defense contact taser.

I could only watch helplessly as the man in black inexorably stepped forward and shoved the taser into Alex’s side.

“Aaaahh!”

His scream of pain echoed awfully in the room of concrete.

He twitched and his body contorted with spasms as he fell over pointlessly on his side, trying to get some distance from his opponent.

The SCP instance straightened himself and calmly tucked away the taser into his suit pocket.

“Do you submit?” he asked Alex idly.

The true nature of the level hit me and what Alex would have to endure to reach the end of it. The question of what happened if he failed a level was something I had to assume the worst about. Despite this being a game, the nature of all SCPs was not sunshine and daisies. If Alex failed here… death was not the worst that could happen.

“Do you submit?” he repeated the question. “Failure to answer my question a third time will indicate submission.”

Alex managed to regain some control of his own body again, spitting out some pooled saliva before resolutely shaking his head. “N- no.”

The SCP nodded, not disappointed at all. It held out its hand again and now there was a long cattle prod that sparked with the promise of future pain. With no further prompting he poked the prod onto Alex’s buttocks and I heard the electricity crackle.

“Aaahhh-ghhllll…uh, uh, argh!”

Watching this and hearing those screams was just awful in itself and it was even made worse by the fact that Alex was still in my mind web and my perception of his aura. My instincts from my human side and SCP combined to scream at me to do something to alleviate the pain in one of my thralls and rescue them. In addition to destroying the source of that pain.

Yet there was nothing I could do here.

Resolve filled me and I focused on Alex’s mind, pushing a hypnotic command. “Alex, don’t submit.”

“Urrgh, ye- yes, mistress.”

I misted and blasted my way out of the cell easily. It was no more substantial to me than mist and from outside it looked like a ghostly concrete cage that was surrounding Alex.

Next I had to land and materialize to take a location reading and save it on my phone before I turned north and flew back towards the city proper.

I had a certain Tinker to find.

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Bakuda had long since left the bathroom, having dressed in a bathrobe that one of the ABB lieutenants had given her. Lung’s car was gone and only a smattering of gangsters was left behind as a protection detail for her. None had thankfully been stupid enough to try anything with the Tinker. If they had, there wouldn’t be much of them left… or the house for that matter.

She was back in the downstairs study and fiddling with her wish list, when I reappeared in front of the desk.

“Finally! What took you… oof!”

She barely caught the bag of clothes, but it banged her on the nose, neatly interrupting her angry spiel.

“There’s an emergency, get dressed quickly and grab all your tech.”

My own angry and thunderous face did the job of getting through to her that I was not pulling her leg or that this was some sort of test.

She nodded, immediately dumping all the clothes onto the desk, then began to sort through and assemble an outfit.

“Throwing me into the front lines already?” she asked as threw off her robe and stepped into a panty.

“Not an inter-gang situation. An extra-universal anomaly.”

“Fuck,” she said with feeling as she fed her arms through the straps of her bra. “What is it?”

“It’s localized, currently only affecting one person. He’s trapped in a lethal simulation game of sorts that he has to play.”

“That’s rather mild, compared to the Tree,” she said, stepping into a pair of jeans.

“Yes, but this anomaly can potentially project itself anywhere in the city and all over the city.” That only I could see the game levels or characters, did not mean I could assume the game worlds wouldn’t begin to bleed into our dimension. The next level could do just that and if I got involved and found ways to disrupt it, it might even consider it as cheating and adjust accordingly. It could pull us and the rest of the city in as players.

I referenced Alex’s address in my phone’s map and got my bearings on where I would need to fly.

Bakuda pulled on her long jacket and gas mask, finally completing her ensemble. The only thing that detracted from it was the store tags and labels still hanging from the jeans and blouse, which she struggled to rip off.

I rapidly misted to her and easily tore the plastic tags.

“Where are we going?”

My hand clasped her shoulder. “To the victim’s house and origin point of the anomaly. This is going to feel a little weird.”

I misted both of us and zoomed through the ceiling, floors and roof of the house, turning towards the city center and pushing into my top speed.

Bakuda was understandably unnerved by the experience. The loss of control it represented, suddenly not feeling your body and just moving, feeling, and still taking in experience from every sense, despite not actually having the physical structure of those senses in the real world.

A few minutes later I brought us to a stop over downtown and the tall high rises in the area.

I materialized my head, right arm and ‘15 only, bringing it closer to see the screen of my phone.

Damn, went too far north.

We turned around to fly southerly and finally got a more precise bearing, turning east for a few seconds before returning south.

Finally, I spotted the thirty floor upmarket apartment building that looked similar enough to the commercial satellite photo overlay, which corresponded to Alex’s address.

My body misted completely and I dove for the ground floor with all the speed I could muster.

The cars and flickering blue and red lights of the BBPD were clustered around the entrance.

Police tape cordoned off the area, uniformed and plain clothed officers were taking statements from a crowd of witnesses.

The frontage of the building entrance was shattered with what looked like gunfire and forensics were busy photographing and doing the whole spiel of collecting evidence.

Whether this was linked to Alex was a pretty safe bet.

Inside the building it had a very luxurious lobby with gleaming marble flooring, carpets, red uniformed staff, private security and a reception desk behind which was a formally dressed receptionist. They were also being interviewed and statements were being recorded.

My cynicism reared its ugly head and I inwardly scoffed at the amount of effort and manpower time being devoted to a single incident in the very rich city center.

I shook that off and turned my attention immediately to the large board that showed the apartment layout of the building.

Thirteenth floor, seriously?

My will carried me upward through the ceiling, concrete and electrical conduits of the lowest floor before it became a blur as I sped up, just just fast enough so I could discern how many floors I was going through.

Once I was on the thirteenth, I began speeding through the hallways, stopping only momentarily to see the numbers on each door.

Alex’s apartment became obvious though when I saw two policemen standing guard outside a door down the hall from me.

I phased right through the nearest wall and pushed myself through two intervening apartments before my flight stopped right in what had to be Alex’s living room.

It was pretty much trashed by someone who had used their hands and everything they could use as a weapon.

The only thing still functioning amidst the household carnage was the flat screen TV with a classic NES attached to it.

Bingo.

The screen was showing in blood red stylized letters, Professor Ghoul’s Terrifying Horror Challenge and below that ‘Game in progress…’

I breathed an intangible sigh of relief, Alex was still alive, though I didn’t want to think about what the SCP was doing to him now. Logically, it shouldn’t be doing anything permanent, otherwise it would leave him in a state literally unable to continue playing. Unless… that was the entire point. I couldn’t expect this to be just the SCP version of Leet.

Bakuda and I materialized fully in the living room and the Tinker immediately shuddered, feeling her arms and legs, giving herself the reassurance that she was once again fully embodied.

“Fuck! That’s fucking creepy and… why… do I feel so… good? It’s like…”

“You just spent a whole day at the spa,” I finished for her.

“Yeah.”

“Let’s just say it's a perk of getting misted by me.” That was a discovery made only after I’d misted both Theo and Dad. Shauna had stupidly not reported it to me and Henry was not exactly a human being. He could certainly appreciate beauty and women, but he had no desire or capacity to engage with them.

It was something my power was clearly doing to prepare anyone I misted for very extensive fun times.

Now I turned my attention to the two detectives who I’d mastered the instant we appeared.

Both were staring at me with the usual wide eyes and stupefied expressions, but I recognized the cool blue gray eyes of the man on the left. It was Detective Gabriel Fisher, the cop who’d handled my assault and kidnapping case, something that felt like a lifetime ago.

The case was still dragging its way through the overworked court system, but I knew it had already landed Sophia fucking Hess back in juvie. My dear former friend Emma was bouncing in and out of psych care, whilst wearing an ankle bracelet to track and enforce her movement. Madison had turned on her ‘friends’ faster than she could blink once Detective Fisher had read out the charges.

“You master them?” Bakuda’s question thankfully snapped me away from that line of thought, as she walked closer and waved her hand in front of the other detective’s face. She had to jump back as the red haired detective slapped her hand away.

“Yes, and the policemen outside, but you don’t want to get between them and me. They won’t appreciate it and will even shoot you should it come down to it. My thralls are rather… fanatical about me if I don’t moderate what they do. Detective Fisher and partner, good to meet you both. Please wait outside and close the door behind you. If anyone else approaches, make a suitable excuse to keep them from coming in.”

Both men visibly slumped with disappointment, “Yes, mistress.”

Bakuda stared as both detectives left without a further word, their postures suddenly becoming strong and defiant as they rushed to obey my orders.

“That’s fucking awesome and frightening.”

“Yes, something to remember should you get any notions of climbing the ladder of the ABB beyond what you have genuinely earned. You’re a cape and that automatically puts you ahead of many rank and file, except for certain elder lieutenants. If you think you can ambush me to take my position at Lung’s side, if you even find out where I live in this city, I wish you luck. Just know that you will be mastered so thoroughly that I’ll effectively engineer a completely new personality out of the old you.”

“Fine, fine, I get it,” Bakuda held up her hands wearily. Her aura was stained with enough fear and other indicators that I judged she believed me.

“Good. Now, the anomaly is centered around the game cartridge inside,” I jerked a thumb at the NES lying hooked up to the TV.

Bakuda approached the old console, her aura radiating skepticism. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” I said shortly. The strength of the SCP anchored onto that little cartridge was utterly ridiculous. If I focused, I could see the reality bending energy pouring upward out of it like I was standing right next to the Niagara Falls in reverse. My True Sight could barely manage to even look at it.

“So the player of this game, this was his apartment. Where is he now?”

“Roughly eight miles south-south east, near the city outskirts.”

“So somehow this little thing is capable of projecting a virtual environment that far and that extensively. I don’t doubt that big things can come in small packages and cause great destruction. Some of my bomb ideas will erase entire city blocks with something that can fit in your hand, but if what you say is true then I really want to take apart this little thing and study it.”

“Perhaps, but first we have someone’s life to save,” I walked closer to the NES console, knelt next to it and pulled out my smartphone from ‘15 before leaning the pipe against the wall.

“You’re taking photos?” Bakuda asked weirdly.

“I document every anomaly I come across for my other corporate employer,” I explained, tapping the phone, the integrated camera flashed. I judged it safe enough and called Henry, also tapping in a situation code.

“Escort? Code in.” He demanded.

“Three, one, three, nine, whiskey, tango, foxtrot, I am a pig.”

“Confirmed. What’s the situation?”

“In the vicinity of newly designated Anomaly 11. Impending death of victim is forcing deviation from usual procedure-”

“Are you kidding me?” Bakuda interrupted.

I glared at her, keeping the phone against my ear, “No, we are about to fiddle and screw around with something that can alter the very fabric of reality around us. If this thing kills us or sucks us into another dimension from which there is no escape, we have to leave something behind that’ll help the others who follow to shut this thing down. Anyway, Director Henry, sending a pic to you. Do you recognize it?”

It took a few moments for the image to download on his end. “Sorry, Escort. Not ringing a bell. It’s not amongst those known to me.”

“Shit. Okay, beginning the first obvious test. Turning the console off during a game.”

I put my finger on the depressed ‘POWER’ button and nothing happened from simple contact with the console itself. Then I lifted up the hinged flap that protected the cartridge itself. The dark gray cartridge was visibly normal, with a professional looking sticker on it proclaiming the name of the game.

No reaction.

Throwing caution to the wind, I pushed the button in and let go.

The power LED next to the button winked out, but the flatscreen TV above didn’t change at all, still proclaiming the game was in progress.

“Obviously not that simple,” I sighed. “Trying the reset button.” Other than the button clicking, going in and out, this didn’t change anything either. “No change in Anomaly status.”

“Pulling it out at the wall socket?” suggested Bakuda.

“Try,” I nodded.

She traced the cables to behind an overturned, torn couch, finding a multiplug adapter after pushing it aside.

The Tinker pulled the console’s power plug out and we both glanced at the screen.

“Did that help?” Henry asked.

“No, game is still on.” Bakuda stared at the TV. A sense of disbelief and stupefaction as she clearly witnessed her first impossible anomaly, settled on her.

“Try the TV itself.” The sentient statue was not sounding optimistic.

“Bakuda! Snap out of it. Pull the TV plug.”

The Tinker shook her head like a dog shrugging off water, “Okay, yeah, TV plug.”

She pulled and was left with a handful of cable and plug, yet after five seconds the flatscreen was still displaying the game title screen.

“What the fuck?” she spat, surging to her feet and rushing to examine the back of the TV. Her hand reached in behind it and felt for anything strange. “Shit!” She now walked in front of the device and lifted it off the wall before leaning it face first against the couch to properly examine the rear.

Her hands caressed everywhere, trying to feel for an imperfection, alteration or modification. She poked her head to the other side, “It’s still on, what… bullshit is this?!”

I didn’t answer. “Next test, physical removal of the game cartridge.”

My fingers probed inside the open flap of the console. Thankfully I had seen both Uber and Leet do this many times with their NES, as it wasn’t entirely intuitive for a layman.

Push down slightly hard on the cartridge and it popped upward, still cradled in the housing. Grab with fingers and give a steady backward tug.

It popped as the console let go of the copper contacts and was released into my hand.

I looked at the fancy gray cartridge and didn’t dare open my True Sight. It was so small, so ordinary, yet commanded reality according to its programming.

“Any effect?” I asked Bakuda. She shook her head. “Henry, any other suggestions?”

“Escort, anything more you can try will be destructive testing.”

My eyes couldn’t help but look down at the innocuous cartridge. There were so many reasons not to try. If the creator of the game was vindictive enough, the SCP could be ‘programmed’ to pull in anyone attempting it into their own game. There were numerous nightmare scenarios that could happen. If I was the SCP Foundation, I’d write off Alex as an acceptable casualty, bring in the cartridge for containment, let cooler heads reason and think this through. 

I had no doubt Alex would survive that level and anything the SCP man in black could do to him. Then we could see what the next level would be and what could be done to help.

Yet we had no idea just how many levels there were.

That he had made it through seventeen meant that we had to assume at least 99 levels existed, but that was just a best case scenario.

Did the designer of this SCP even intend anyone playing to actually win this game? Was it all just a sick method of tormenting his victims? Dangling hope they could eventually win.

“Fuck it,” I threw the cartridge to the floor, grabbed ‘15 and slammed it down with all my strength.

It should’ve shattered into a dozen pieces, internal circuit boards and ROM chips flying… but the iron staff was stopped cold and the cartridge remained stubbornly in one piece. It even dissipated all the momentum and kinetic energy, tossing it aside casually.

“Did you try hard enough?” Bakuda asked with scorn.

I glared at her and to demonstrate just how hard I had hit the SCP, I slammed ‘15 down again and shattered an entire tile of flooring, driving up a small cloud of pulverized concrete.

“Right, so if brute force isn’t going to work, we need to approach this differently,” she said and began reaching into her jacket.

“We are not doing this in the middle of an apartment building,” I snapped and scooped up the SCP before walking to the front door and ripping it open.

The four men from the BBPD immediately whirled on the spot and looked at me with eagerness, awaiting my command.

“Thank you for your service. When this front door closes, you will forget you saw me and a woman wearing a gas mask. You spent the time discussing the particulars of the case and concluded that Alex Ross was fighting a parahuman Stranger. You’ll contact the Protectorate and forward the case to them. Understood?”

“Yes, mistress,” they chorused.

I backed into the apartment and shut the door in their faces, releasing their minds.

In the same moment, I pulled on Bakuda’s mind and walked up to her.

“Urgh-” 

The contest of dominance with the woman was over within seconds as I emotionally bulldozed her.

“You will never communicate in any way the particulars or broad details of my master ability to anyone.”

She nearly lost her balance as I released her, her mind whirling from the emotional whiplash. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You’re a clever person, Bakuda. So why are you asking a stupid question? You saw me demonstrate my hypnosis on the police officers. You made the obvious conclusion that even a child could at that point. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

She grudgingly nodded. “You have Lung mastered. You’re not just his cape concubine, you’re the fucking power behind the throne.”

I pulled her mind in again, “Another conclusion you will never communicate to anyone.”

“Fuck, bitch. Stop!” she cradled her head.

“No, I will not. There is too much at stake here that you barely have the comprehension of and you have the potential to cause literal catastrophe in this city and by extension the entire North American continent.” I could’ve said the entire universe really, but that would be well out of context for Bakuda. “So now you’re my problem to manage. Now come.”

I fumbled with my phone and brought it to my ear, “Henry, I’m going to keep my phone active. Trace my location when you reacquire a signal.”

“Will do, Escort. Good luck.”

I returned it to ‘15s pouch, putting the SCP game cartridge in as well, then I grabbed Bakuda by the shoulder and misted us both.

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When we materialized back in the open field I had left Alex in, Bakuda got another taste of SCP weirdness.

From her point of view, it looked like he was simply suspended in mid air, a foot off the ground, his arms and legs spread eagled. His clothes were in tatters, with only his pants really in any condition to protect his modesty. Almost everywhere on his body were thin bleeding cuts and his face was contorted in pain.

I saw the concrete room, the large thick planks shaped in an X that was some form of medieval interrogation device that I couldn’t remember the name of and the embodiment of the SCP standing in front of it.

The black suited man had a very thin knife and even as I watched, he applied the lightest of bleeding cuts to Alex’s stomach.

How much blood had Alex lost? The ground below him was stained black and red - his skin didn’t look pale and his aura was generally strong, if wracked with determination, pain and anger.

“Do you submit?” the SCP asked genially.

“Fuck… you! No!” Alex glared.

How long had it been since the level started? I could only curse myself for not having kept precise track.

“Bakuda,” I flicked a finger in front of the Tinker’s face, startling her out of her astonishment. Then handed her the game cartridge. “Get to work.”

She took the innocuous piece of electronics, “Fine. Thinking A2 combined with B4, that should make a plasma.”

Her hand reached into her jacket and she pulled out two matt black plastic modules that could interface with one another. Then a pretty standard digital timing device came from another pocket, which she attached to the combination.

It was pretty fascinating to watch as I perceived more than just highly advanced technology in those modules, there were clearly elements of bottled parahuman power in there.

“Just don’t blow us up in the process,” I groused.

“Of course not, I know my tech!” She walked near the tree line a dozen feet away and began putting her newly created plasma bomb in place. She fiddled with the thing, placing the SCP cartridge underneath it.

Then came sprinting back. “Ten seconds, should act like thermite, high temp but no explosion. Oh, and you shouldn’t look at it directly.”

“Thanks for the warning,” I said dryly and counted down in my head.

Ten seconds later I heard a thump, followed by a hissing. Then I clearly felt like I was briefly blasted by the heat of sunlight.

I turned around to see Bakuda running back and a number of trees in a three to four cubic meter area was just… gone.  

One tree had three quarters of its lower trunk missing and it cracked before falling over with a groan and a rustle of branches and leaves. Everything was scorched to hell and back, with the earth practically glassed in a circular depression.

Bakuda stopped at the edge of the depression and looked down. “Fuck! That’s impossible!”

She reached down, then held up the game cartridge that still looked factory fresh and immaculate.

Then I heard a victorious fanfare jingle and whirled around to see Alex was now down on the ground, held up by his hands and knees. His clothes restored to exactly the condition it was before, his body completely healed. Even the dried blood on the ground beneath him was gone.

The concrete room was gone, but in its place the black board hovered in mid air and began writing.

‘Congratulations on passing Level 19! As a reward for getting this far you have two minutes before Level 20 begins.’

Alex gathered himself and sat down, hugging his own legs and stared at the black board with blank frightened eyes.

“Ah ha, I know, D9 and Z14. Material transmutation!” declared Bakuda.

I let out a weary sigh and planted ‘15 into the ground next to me, and fished out my phone.

“Henry.”

“We’re on our way, Taylor.”

“Hurry.”

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SCP/s featured in this chapter:

"SCP-1315" by Dark Gaia, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-1315. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.

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A/N: Many are the SCPs that can't be defeated by conventional force and just laugh at your attempts to deal with them. Have a great weekend folks and stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 92

Moments like this showed very clearly that for all I could plan and take every precaution, that my enemy also had the initiative and could make moves faster than I could anticipate, especially if I was on the ass end of the galaxy and he was sitting snug in his center of power under that damn Shroud.

“What happened?” I asked the holo of HK-47.

The droid was projected in the low light of my quarters aboard the Resolute, giving him a menacing, sinister edge.

“Recitation: Senator Mee Deechi was killed by an explosive hidden inside the chief secretarial meatbag of one of the Loyalist Committee members. They were in an official meeting at the time.”

“Any other fatalities?” I asked, my fist clenching involuntarily.

“Answer: None. It was a completely routine meeting. The meatbag aide was simply delivering financial statistics that Senator Deechi had requested.”

“When you say inside, do you mean the explosives were surgically implanted?” I asked, though I had a nasty suspicion on where this was leading.

“Answer: Negative, master. Explanation: Any device powerful enough to cause this level of destruction in Deechi’s office, would’ve been detected by the extensive security sensors employed throughout the Senate, even if it was hidden inside a meatbag. The meatbag in question’s medical records and itinerary were thoroughly scrutinized by investigators and the Jedi, for up to a year in the past. At no point, as far they can see, could he have been subjected to any surgical procedure.”

“So we have two facts telling us that him exploding should be impossible, yet it clearly happened.” I sat back in my chair and shook my head. “He was implanted with nano droids as he slept one evening. These droids began the slow process of collecting the materials needed from his own body and his food to engineer a biological explosive, which could then be set off at a predetermined time. In addition, investigators probably found a very convenient manifesto, where the aide in question decries the war and declares his intent to assassinate Senator Deechi, as he’s the most prominent voice campaigning for it.”

“Amazement: Master, are you sure you didn’t do this? That is exactly my own conclusion as well.”

“No, I did not,” I pursed my lips and scoffed. “It just so happens to be a method I’m familiar with and have seen it used to frame someone for a crime. Nano droids are obscure technology and have only been rediscovered recently, since the technology was lost during the Interregnum before the Ruusan Reformation. The sensors in the Senate would not be able to detect them, since you need very sensitive close range equipment to even have a chance. Has the official results of the investigation been released yet?”

“Answer: Negative, master. It hasn’t been made public yet, but the Umbaran government had investigators there, working side-by-side with the Republic. They knew everything and when the meatbag’s confession was made known to them, it seemingly emboldened a powerful isolationist faction within Umbara. Conclusion: Secession became inevitable.”

“And now here we are, at the spearhead of an invasion into the Umbara system to prevent them from falling into the CIS fold, lest the Republic lose a major supplier of doonium. Not to mention preventing their advanced technology from strengthening the Separatists. Yet that is just the bright flashy reason everyone is supposed to see, in actuality the enemy wants that technology for his future Empire.”

“Statement: It is rather similar in goal to what he wanted to achieve with the Mon Cala.”

“Of course, the problem now is that we’re going to have to fight a technologically superior foe and not massacre our clone troops in the process,” I said, massaging my forehead in thought. “What’s the situation with the mercs you hired to guard Deechi secretly?”

“Answer: The meatbag Director Bagwa has paid them for services rendered and dismissed them. Suggestion: Master, they should really be disposed of.”

“No, we could really use a good merc team like that in the future. The failure wasn’t their fault but they did do a good job otherwise of covering the usual threats. The fact that the enemy had to use nano droids to achieve his goal shows that.”

“Abject disappointment: Very well, Master.”

“How goes your hunt?”

“Answer: I have located the target, master. Explanation: Currently, building a profile on his movements and habits to determine a suitable ending that fits your required parameters.”

“Good, the sooner the better. This battle over Umbara is going to be a clusterfuck and at this point I’m scrambling to do some damage control already. The enemy has a secondary objective here to give the Jedi Order’s reputation a double blow.”

“Opinion: Something which is quite easy to do, master. Given how the Jedi historically haven't really considered their own public image with regard to their own actions.”

I shrugged, “Populism shouldn’t dictate what a Jedi does or does not do. That can’t change. However, that the Order didn’t establish its own communication or public relations office when the war began is a gross oversight that I’m going to give Master Yoda an earful about. There’s only so much that Hermione and CSO can do. Especially now that someone as prominent as Sora Bulq defected. The general public of the galaxy is too used to seeing the Jedi as an infallible bastion, when we both know they’re not.”

“Query: Anything else, master?”

I shook my head, “No, thank you, HK. Keep up the good work.”

“Statement: Such a turn of phrase suggests that I am capable of ‘slumping’ in what I do, master. That is most disturbing.”

“Stop playing semantics with my words, HK,” I groused.

“Statement: Very well, master. Logging you out.”

The droid’s holo winked out, plunging my quarters into darkness.

My comlink pinging didn’t let me brood for long though. “Tano here.”

“Commander, we’re about to drop out of hyper for the rendezvous,” Yularen’s voice said.

“On my way.”

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Resolute decelerated out of hyper in the Virujansi system.

Waiting for us was Obi-Wan’s flagship the Negotiator and another Venator called simply Courage, plus three more Venators with serial numbers instead of names. Clustered around them were six Acclamator carrier variants, meant to ferry the newly constituted 7th Sky Corps of clones and the equipment that would be necessary to fight on a world like Umbara. To put the final cherry on the task group were three ships that were part of a prototype run made by KDY.

Just seeing their slim delta-shaped forms, blistered with massive articulated emitter dishes and actually functioning after their abbreviated space trials, made me want to shake my clenched fist and punch the air in victory. Lira Blissex really deserved something special for making this happen.

A few seconds later, more ships dropped out of hyper, this one a Mandalorian Kom’rk class fighter transport, including a two full squadrons of Fang fighters

“Mandalorian ship Berzerker and attendant squadrons requesting permission to land, commander,” reported the com officer.

“Permission granted, give them priority in the port hangar bay,” I ordered immediately from my command chair.

“Are you sure we’re going to need them, commander?” Yularen asked delicately under his breath. Just loud enough that only I would hear from his customary position at my right hand.

“You’ve seen the scout reports, admiral. We’re going to need every bit of help to even make it to the surface of Umbara.”

There was also the matter that Berzerker was carrying some specialist equipment aboard her that I’d need before all this was over.

Yularen nodded, conceding the point.

“Incoming transmission from the Negotiator.”

“Thank you, coms.”

I tapped a few buttons on my chair and the life sized holos of Anakin and Obi-Wan appeared in front of me.

“Masters,” I bowed my head at both.

“Padawan Tano, welcome to my humble little fleet,” Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes regarding me warmly.

“Took your sweet time getting here, Snips,” Anakin gave me a raised eyebrow as he scrutinized me visually and through the Force.

"Logistical issues at the Abhean forward supply base, we were delayed a full day before we could get the Resolute in shape for this campaign.”

“Well, we’re together and the enemy isn’t going anywhere,” Obi-Wan explained. “We’ve already got a blockading fleet in Quas Killiam. The Umbarans are now boxed in on this part of the Trellius Trade Route and they can’t send any ships or technology to the Separatists. Our job is to go into the Umbara system and secure the capital, deposing the current Separatist aligned government.”

“This is not going to be easy, Master,” Anakin folded his arms and gave Obi-Wan a pointed look. “The Umbaran defense grid is practically the best in the galaxy I’ve seen.”

“That is why we’re going to spend every second of our half-day journey there planning to breach those defenses. This entire operation is quite short notice, but it’s what must be done. I have no doubt that we’re going to suffer preventable losses because we’re heading into the relative unknown. Umbara is not idly called the Shadow World for nothing.”

“Then let’s get this campaign on the road.”

I bowed to the two men as their holos faded. Then keyed my bridge com circuits, “Nav, synchronize our hyper with the fleet.”

“Synchronizing… we’re synchronized, commander.”

The Venators and Acclimators smoothly turned and began a burn that would see us reach the onward hyper point in just under four hours of real space travel.

I reached across the Bond with Anakin, whilst tenting my fingers in front of my face. Always handy wearing my style of Mandalorian helmet, to always give the impression that I was there and paying attention to the rank and file of the bridge.

He was ready and had brought Obi-Wan into our mental landscape.

All three of us appeared in my infinite black and white mental lobby.

For this occasion I decided to appear in my Hapan Jedi outfit, whilst the other two men were in more relaxed attire as well, Jedi outfits minus any armor pieces.  

Anakin frowned at me immediately, “You’re… stronger Snips and there’s something else, you carry yourself differently…”

“Courtesy of a bota plant treatment on Drongar and using a Force Shield to cover an entire Juggernaut Tank.” I declined to comment on his second observation. I did not want to tell Obi-Wan of my own damn love life, Anakin would naturally find out later.

“Hmmm, so it works,” Obi-Wan thoughtfully stroked his beard. “I’ve been a bit busy to properly keep up with Council reports.”

“The problem is, it more than likely won’t work for much longer. Evolution happens at hyper speeds on Drongar. I’d give it just under another thirteen months and the bota plant mutates into a form in reaction to everyone’s harvesting attempts which will make it useless.”

“That… is disappointing.” Obi-Wan, master of the understatement.

“I’ve made contact with Knight Tedrad, the Jedi biologist working on it. He’s working on isolating the properties and mechanisms of bota, so it might be possible one day to create a synthetic version of the plant that will work in harmony with the Force, no matter where it’s grown. It won’t grow on Coruscant, not until that blasted Shroud is gone, but any Agriworld would be ideal anyway.”

“That is hopeful news at least. Now what can you tell us of Umbara?”

“We have Jedi Master Pong Krell on the Courage, don’t we?” I asked flatly.

Obi-Wan frowned at my tone and gave a glance to Anakin. “Yes, he’s in charge of the 212th Attack Battalion. Why?”

“This entire battle is of twofold purpose to the enemy. Ideally he wants us to suffer a defeat here. He hopes the superior Umbaran technology will achieve that. If that happens, the blame will be laid squarely on the Jedi’s shoulders. He has also foreseen that even if we achieve victory, the cost will be high enough that it will cause Master Krell to attempt to defect to the CIS. Something Krell will do by in effect committing treason when he purposefully orders clones to their needless deaths and order them to unknowingly fire on one another in the chaos of battle.”

“I can’t see how we allow that to happen,” Anakin shook his head.

“You assume that either of us will be here, master. The enemy wants to preserve our reputation 

and so will soon order both of us to be recalled to Coruscant not long after we make planetfall. Krell will take over command of the 501st and 212th. Obi-Wan will be too busy in the north of the planet to help, the same goes for Master Tiin, who’ll be in the western sectors.”

Anakin began pacing with his hands folded behind his back. “You’re saying it’ll be up to the 501st to deal with Krell then?”

“As things stand now, yes.”

Obi-Wan sighed wearily. “What plan have you concocted now, Ahsoka?”

“There is only one way to head off the blow that the enemy wants to deliver to the Jedi. He wants to strike while the iron is hot in the wake of the Bulq’s defection. So we need to do the following…”

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The task force arrived in the Umbara system but didn’t leave hyperspace, instead smoothly turning into a carefully calculated circuit that circumnavigated beyond the system’s Oort Cloud.

Three Venators opened their hangar bays and began the careful process of launching Z-95s, ARC fighters and Y-Wings directly into the roiling tunnel of hyperspace.

My full attention though was on the various feeds from the cloaked scouts that were randomly orbiting around Umbara itself.

The planet was an orb of dark purples, reds and even pink, with greens and reds at the poles from the local magnetosphere deflecting charged particles. Very little direct sunlight reached Umbara thanks to a dense nebulous cloud that the star had seemingly shrouded itself with. How that happened naturally was still puzzling astrophysicists and many had thrown down their hats in frustration. The star’s gravity also should’ve just gulped in the cloud during its formation, yet it clearly hadn’t.

My own opinion was that we were seeing the handiwork of a bored Celestial who wanted to see what happened when you seeded humanoid life to live in perpetual darkness.

The result relevant for us was a species that built a multilayered satellite defense network with thousands of individual satellites and a dozen weapon platforms at least equivalent to a Golan station, that hung around the equator of the planet like a very deadly necklace.

Each Umbaran Golan had many squadrons of what was known as Zenuas 33 starfighters. Nasty versatile fighters that featured a centralized ray shielded bubble cockpit, out of which a very odd durasteel structure blossomed; curved wing struts that formed a large ‘D’ shape on either side, with most of the systems and internal reactors sitting right behind the pilot bubble. The thing didn’t look traditionally assembled so much as it looked as if it was grown into that shape. All the controls inside were holographic and the situational awareness it gave the pilot was unparalleled. 

It was armed with a chin mounted articulating plasma cannon of an unknown strength and wing mounted missile pods with equally unknown ordnance.

The Umbarans hadn’t let anyone within arms reach of this fighter from the Republic. It was only known at first that it existed and no performance figures were available for it.

The most information we had was passive scans from the scouts as the Umbaran squadrons ran combat drills.

The Umbarans knew we were watching though and hadn’t done any live fire exercises, clearly showing us exactly what they wanted us to see.

For example, they had clearly downplayed the acceleration and maneuverability of their fighters, trying to make us think that the Z95 was superior in that regard.

Further complicating the tactical situation, they were sitting behind the mass shadow of Umbara itself. Therefore using hyperspace bombing runs against the defense stations was of limited value. The torpedoes would have to traverse nearly 20 000 km, which given max accelerations of those weapons, meant a full forty seconds of travel time.

“Commander, all squadrons report ready.”

“Thank you, coms.”

Now hovering in formation above the capital ships were 118 ARC fighters, 432 Z95s and 96 Y-Wings.

I closed my eyes and focused, reaching out towards every pilot encapsulated in a fighter or bomber, then keyed the com circuit, so my voice conventionally reached all of them as well.

“Pilots of Task Group 131, this is Commander Tano. Trust yourselves, your training and your wingman. No matter what we face in the coming battle, we will see it through to the end, together. The enemy knows we are coming, they think they are prepared for us. They think they know us. We will show them that they know nothing.”

Every pilot ended up cheering in their cockpits, crowding their individual squadron frequencies with noise and chatter.

“We do our jobs well, we’ll all be toasting in the mess after the day is won. I want to see all of you there. Is that understood?”

“YES COMMANDER!”

I smirked and brought Obi-Wan and Anakin into the command circuit, the latter was naturally in his Delta 7B Aethersprite fighter, with Shadow Squadron - who would be in the second wave of fighter launches.

“General Kenobi, we are ready.”

Given that the whole thing was his plan, with some input from myself and Anakin, it was only fitting that he give the word to kick off the entire thing.

“Kenobi to the fleet, it’s an honor to fight with you all. May the Force be with us. All fighters, begin your attack runs in sequence.”

The first wave of fighters divided themselves in half, then began to slowly drift to port and vanished from view into their own hyperspace tunnels, whilst the second half drifted to starboard.

The wave came out of hyper on opposite sides of Umbara, with one group presenting the expected obvious attack vector - the defense platform that was stationed over the Umbaran capital city, whilst the other group attacked a platform that defended a city called Satreec.

A city that was the most populous and industrial outside of the capital.

The Republic fighters were already pushing the buttons on their control yokes, ripple firing torpedoes as soon as the onboard astromechs and computers allowed for the safe launch of the ordnance.

At that moment, over 1320 torpedoes screamed into the orbital space of Umbara.

660 torpedoes in a saturation alpha strike focused on a single orbital defense platform.

Two seconds later, a second similar salvo was fired.

The Umbaran defense platforms, like their fighters, were odd things. Their general spherical shape was ordinary enough, but the shapes and spines jutting out of the thing gave it an almost organic look - reminding me of a puffer fish from hell. The hull was a black and blue alloy, though there were entire sections covered only in the soft blue of their method of shielding.

Then those spines began articulating like turrets, their ends glowing with a lethal green glow.

The platform opened fire.

A storm of green plasma bolts erupted from it and the readings from the cloaked scouts were fascinating. This was not tibanna gas based plasma at all, this was something totally artificial that wasn’t mined in nature. These guns were also merging the idea of a rail gun and a plasma caster. Most plasma cannons in the galaxy used magnetic coil discharges combined with refined tibanna explosions to push the confined plasma blast out of a barrel.

The Umbaran cannons clearly outranged anything we were fielding, the confinement fields of their plasma bolts was also superior.

The torpedoes began their evasive maneuvers and they were already being intercepted nearly three thousand kilometers from their target.

I raised a brow at seeing the interception rate the Umbaran platform was achieving, despite the active astromech guided weapons running evasives.

If things continued like this, not a single torpedo would even come close to scratching the shields on the platform. It would be a total shut out.

Thankfully, we had not come to fight this battle using anything like the current tactical doctrine and tactics with regard to torpedo salvoes.

The first salvo was just to test the waters anyway, forcing the Umbarans to reveal their cards.

Torpedoes in the first wave winked out in droves in what was the most elegant display of ordinance interception that I had ever witnessed. If there wasn’t a higher level droid intelligence at work here, easily on the level of HK, then I’d eat my lightsaber. No… the entire platform might as well have been a ‘droid’ in its own right.

The second salvo streaked in the path of its unfortunate predecessor.

The platforms began orientating and aiming their weapons.

The astromechs now clearly getting used to the enemy interception methodologies began weaving the courses of the torpedoes into a coordinated yet chaotic dance for the enemy targeting to be confused by.

The second salvo also carried our surprise for this battle.

At the exact proper moment, just before the enemy interceptor droid intelligence could begin firing, every second torpedo in the Republic salvo unfurled their casings explosively and gave rise to five smaller, dedicated Electronic Warfare torpedoes.

To every scanner in existence, 620 torpedoes became an angry cloud of over 7700 weapons bearing down on the Umbaran platform.

Each EW torpedo simulated the electronic existence of five torpedoes and using holo tech could even sell the illusion in the normal visual spectrum. They also interrogated any incoming enemy scan locks and used spoofing and spectrum cancellation to break the targeting locks on the true torpedoes in the formation.

Yet despite the overload of EW we were giving the Umbarans, it didn’t take that defense platform long to find a way to cope somewhat with it.

In one storm of interceptor fire it slapped 175 torpedoes out of space.

Another interceptor salvo as the ranges went down, whittled it down even further.

Twenty seven torpedoes made it through.

The orbital space of Umbara flashed with bright white light as they detonated against the shields of the defense platform.

When sensors cleared I was somewhat astonished to see the thing still in one piece, even if the detonations had clearly stripped the majority of the surface weaponry and there were numerous gaping holes in the structure.

A few seconds later a small nova of light erupted on the other side of the planet. Our EW had been vastly more successful here, and it had allowed 93 torpedoes to initiate their terminal attack runs.

Almost nothing was left of the platform at all. The expanding debris cloud and energy had torn a gaping hole in the defense satellite coverage on that side.

Umbaran starfighters scrambled out of the ten undamaged platforms like a hive of angry bees, all of them burning hard towards our own fighters, who had accelerated away from the planet, keeping the option of retreating into hyper for themselves.

We were now forcing an unpleasant calculus on the enemy commander.

Satreec was now wide open and defenseless from space.

The platform over the capital was badly damaged.

Umbaran society as a whole was governed by a council consisting of people who hailed from a royal caste of their society. Their seat was naturally in the capital, but the loss of Satreec would be equally unacceptable if they were to keep their value to the CIS cause. Occupying or destroying it would mean no surplus advanced technology could be shipped offworld. There were other industrial centers, the loss wouldn’t cripple the Umbarans, but it was a very bitter pill to swallow.

“Now we see what they value,” I said idly, as I watched the movements of their fighter squadrons intently.

Umbarans seemed to prefer a ten ship squadron as opposed to the Republic’s 12, which was further divided into two flights of four, with a two ship third flight, that always hung back in the formation.

Then the majority of enemy fighters went to cover the capital city, with only two hundred fighters racing towards the space over Satreec to fill the gap.

The Republic fighters on that side of the planet burned to pull themselves back into range and released a torpedo salvo at the next platform.

Those over the capital were pulling range but not far enough that they would appear unthreatening. The Z95s also began launching mass concussion missile salvos at the incoming Zenuas fighters.

“Commander Tano, the second fighter wave is ready,” Yularen announced.

“Launch,” I ordered into the squadron circuits.

The second wave of fighters slid away from their capital ships in hyperspace before synchronizing into their own hyper tunnels and heading for Umbara.

There would be no splitting of forces this time and a full strike armada of three hundred fighters emerged from hyper, placing themselves squarely between the Umbaran defense line and their stretched out fighters that were still chasing the first Republic strike group.

Another torpedo salvo was launched at the damaged defense platform, before the second strike group turned around and burned straight for the enemy fighters.

The first strike group stopped feigning retreat and turned around, streaking towards their pursuers.

The four hundred Umbaran fighters now found themselves in a rapid closing vice of Republic fighters.

Both strike groups launched concussion missiles to close the deadly trap.

The Umbarans didn’t take this on the chin and they fired their own mass missile volley.

Space rapidly became a chaotic mess of electronic warfare, countermeasures and missiles. The starfighters of both sides rapidly pushed themselves into evasive maneuvers. To add even more chaos, the Umbaran platform over the capital finally exploded into an expanding mass of debris and plasma.

I winced inwardly as the inevitable death began on both sides as fighters exploded from the missile duels.

“Nav, plot an emergence for Resolute, Negotiator and Courage, the Bastion ships behind us in relative safety,” I poked my finger into the tactical holo, directly for the neighboring defense platform of the capital, “the other three Venators will start their attack over Satreec.”

“Understood commander… emergence plotted.”

“Guns, as soon as you have the power, begin charging our main gun. AM missiles will target the satellite grid. Fire as you bear with our turbolasers… Nav, take us in.”

A few seconds later the constant tunnel of hyperspace shattered into streaks of light before resolving into the infinite void of space.

Umbara went from being as small as a penny, then enlarged to dominate the forward view from the bridge.

The instant our emergence momentum from the hyperspace exit finished, the three Venators and their Bastion cruiser support ships orientated for a burn, pushing us into the mass shadow of Umbara.

A mass launch of AM missiles from all three Venators erupted, drawing scintillating blue lines through space as they streaked away into space at over 4000 G.

The individual defense satellites had fighter scale guns for the most part, a single box launcher of concussion missiles, but also a larger sub-capital scale beam laser. A single satellite was no threat, but a full dozen firing on the same target would ruin anyone’s day.

They began firing frantically in their own defense, but it had none of the elegant efficiency of the defense platforms. It made up for that by the sheer weight of grouped fire.

Nevertheless, AM missiles began hitting their targets and shattering the satellites with brief hammers of proton energy liberation.

“We’re being targeted by the closest platform,” Sensors announced as the Resolute and her formation entered into effective theoretical range.

“Keep your course, Guns, open fire the instant you can,” I ordered.

“Roger, commander.”

The first weapons to enter range were naturally torpedoes and the three Venators began the duel with launching 64 heavy proton torpedoes rapidly. The Umbaran platform responded by shooting back a respectable salvo of similar torpedoes, but it was immediately clear to me that these platforms, for all their sophistication, were built with the pre-war mentality of energy weapons being the dominant weapon system.

If I had carte blanche to design that weapons platform, with the amount of power, space and Umbaran technology at my disposal, I’d have been able to drown any attacker in long range torpedoes.

Every fourth torpedo from our fire was an EW missile, that deployed and created multiple ghost signatures.

AM missiles fired shortly after, seeking to kill the incoming Umbaran weapons.

I watched anxiously as the battle in the electronic sphere was fought with ferocity, as weapons sought and lost target locks. It was a battle that Resolute was fighting herself, using her massive communication arrays, retrofitted to also fight that in the electronic battlespace, spoofing and flatlining enemy targeting emissions as quickly as the droids could scan and react.

Thirteen enemy torpedoes made it through our defensive AM screen.

Six were successfully spoofed to utterly lose their targeting locks and veer off into a random direction where they would run out of energy and fuel or burn up in Umbara’s atmosphere.

Our inner defenses engaged the remainder, but three managed to reach their terminal attack points and detonated on the Resolute’s forward shields.

I felt the decks shuddering under my feet as I closed my eyes reflexively to shield them from the brief glare of detonation. The bridge lighting flickered slightly before recovering.

“Forward shields down to an effective sixty percent, commander,” reported Engineering.

The three Bastion ships being screened behind us didn’t even need the order and their captains sprung into action.

I looked into the holo and smirked as the computer rendered what was happening for my convenience. There was no actual visual effect in space for the process, as much as my inner nerd wished it so.

The Bastions locked onto the Resolute and within the space of ten seconds, rebuilt the forward shields to an effective 94%.

The rebuild wasn’t perfect and I brought up an engineering diagram of the shield geometries and strengths.

“Definitely still some kinks to work out,” I mumbled.

“Remarkable,” Yularen breathed with a rare display of awe in his voice.

The Republic torpedo barrage weathered the enemy counterfire, only 19 torpedoes had survived to the enemy inner perimeter and the Umbaran satellites in range killed another nine, but that still meant ten heavy torpedoes detonated onto the shields of the defense platform.

Those shields popped like a bubble before the residual proton energies washed over the structure.

What was left was a smoldering wreck that was venting atmosphere as it lost power to the various shields that kept it inside. Secondary explosions started erupting, sending debris and brief flame spewing outward.

“Ordnance explosions,” Yularen commented grimly.

Something inside gave up the ghost, when in a final titanic flash, a characteristic fusion reactor explosion occurred.

The ranges closed down even further and on the other side of the planet the Venators led by Master Tiin managed another defense platform kill.

“Entering extreme range with guns, commander.”

“Fire at will, Guns. Let’s clean up this sky.”

The three Venator’s turbolaser and AA guns erupted with blue bolts, beginning to swat away every satellite that came into range.

Concussion missiles began erupting from all the satellites. Most of these were set to ballistic modes, because of the range.

“Nav, keep us on course for the next platform. I want our main gun for this one.”

The concussion missiles were swatted away en masse by our inner AA defenses, but some did leak through, to merely plink away at our shields.

On the other side of the planet, the Venators and Republic fighters had rejoined and were now involved in a full close range dogfight with the enemy Zenuas 33 fighters.

On the Resolute’s port side, just beyond the mass shadow of the planet, the fighter battle there was devolving from an elegant missile duel into a nasty close range furball of plasma cannons. It was such a mess from this range, squadrons and fighters from both sides were getting heavily intermingled.

I reached across the Bond to Anakin to gauge if I needed to scramble some reserve fighters to help.

‘We’re fine Snips, their plasma guns are nasty, but their rear arc is the most vulnerable point. Fatalities on our side are ticking up, but we're burning them out of space faster. I’ll call if we need it. You focus on your job.’

“Entering into range of the next platform,” announced Sensors.

“Time to torpedo readiness?”

“One minute, thirty nine seconds,” answered Guns.

I gritted my teeth beneath my lips as the enemy platform ahead of us spewed a barrage of sixty heavy torpedoes and we were stuck in a reload cycle.

AM missiles roared out from the Venators in defense, EW arrays flooding the spectrum ahead of us with directional jamming and spoofing.

“Commander, some of those torpedoes are definitely targeting the Bastions,” announced Sensors.

“Tano to all Bastion cruisers, your shield repairs to yourselves have priority, we can take a few hits, but if you die, we lose all our endurance in this fight.”

“Understood, commander,” replied one of the captains.

28 enemy torpedoes made it through our outer defense. 

13 were killed or spoofed by our inner defenses.

Eight made it through for terminal attack runs.

Five were targeted onto the Resolute’s forward shields.

The ship shuddered, lights flickered and overloads tripped on the bridge, sparks flying from panels and overhead.

“Report!” I winced.

“Our forward shields are barely holding!”

Three torpedoes attacked the Bastion Cruiser Epiphany.

The detonations writhed the cruiser in proton hammers of energy that briefly ghosted our scanners with static given how close they were.

The screens cleared and I blinked in amazement when the Epiphany was still there!

It hardly looked like it had been touched at all!

The captains of the Bastions had reacted in time and transferred all their repair capacity to the Epiphany.

I watched as the cruiser’s shields ticked from twenty to sixty percent, then eighty and ninety!

“Frakking yes!” I shouted in triumph, punching the armrest of my command chair.

“Main gun in range, commander,” Guns announced. “Firing!”

The massive collimated laser drew itself instantly from the emitter in the ventral bay, connecting itself to the Umbaran platform.

The shields offered the briefest resistance, the bubble pushing itself into the visible spectrum, before it vanished barely a second later and the beam started biting into the hull.

It happened so quickly, that only a Jedi could perceive the chain of events.

The beam cored through the spherical platform and then it left even Jedi perceptions behind.

A shockwave of liberated energy was released in a massive bubble that was only visible because of the expanding shell of debris, gasses and fire.

The platform was reduced to four large pieces spinning wildly out of control that leaked further debris like scintillating reflective blood out into space. 

Only my farsight could spot the bodies of the Umbaran crew being ejected as well. Most were in pressure suits, but the majority of them were already dead due to other causes too numerous to even think about.

“Epiphany’s shield repairs are landing on us,” reported Sensors.

My eyes turned to the command holo and I watched as the Resolute’s shields ticked back up to eighty percent this time.

I tapped my controls to speak directly to the chief engineer, “Engineering, any ideas why we can’t get back to full shields?”

“It seems the Bastion repairs aren’t aligning with our geometries properly, I’m not entirely sure why, commander-”

Chewie’s Shyriiwook blurted into the comms, “Ahsoka, it’s the space around us. This system has a high particulate count from the Ghost Nebula. It’s degrading the energies and fouling the shield alignment trajectories in the process. The error is cumulative on our own shield emitters.”

“Can we compensate, Chief?”

“Well, what do you know, the big guy’s correct as far as I can see, commander. Now that I know what to look out for… give me a moment. I need a few minutes to write a program that needs to go to the Bastions as well for implementation.”

“How long, Chief?” I asked pointedly.

“If you can give us twenty minutes commander, you’ll have full shields.”

“Do so,” I ordered. “General Kenobi-”

“The Negotiator will take point, yes,” Obi-Wan said, but I heard the hint of a smile as he said it.

“Nav, bring us into the port slot of the formation, let the Negotiator take lead.”

“Roger, commander!”

“Bastions, what’s your charge levels?”

“Recharging just fine, commander. You’ll have our repairs by the time you need it.”

A warning alert brought my attention to the command holo, just in time to see Venator S4035 lose shields and take a nasty torpedo hit right on the forward wedge of its hull.

It just barely kept its structural integrity but it was clearly out of the fight, as the other Venators charged forward and pulverized the Umbaran platform that had managed the deed. It would’ve been nice to have more Bastions, but their full production runs hadn’t been authorized yet until we sent back data and reports on whether they could do the job under battlespace conditions.

The Republic fighters on that side of the planet had achieved superiority, losing nearly thirty percent of their numbers in the process. They were doing much work in easing the pressure on the Venators, attacking defense platforms with their remaining torpedoes and even assisting in shooting down incoming enemy weapons.

The fighter battle outside the mass shadow was going much more poorly. Just a single glance told me it was going to be a pyrrhic victory at best.

My battle meditation, which had been a light blanket on the crews of the Venators, increased in strength until I was able to layer over the combatants of the giant fighter furball.

It really helped that Anakin was there as well, giving me an effective conduit to help my projections.

“General Kenobi,” I prompted.

Obi-Wan was very quick on the uptake, having felt my battle meditation increasing in scope.

“I have tactical command,” he announced to the fleet.

My focus and concentration shifted, my world becoming the vast distances of space and tiny spirits twinkling in that void, surrounded by energy and metal, trying to survive the hostile environment. Their lethal intentions speared outward in plasma and missile.

Republic fighters began reacting to threats moments faster, beginning to perceive more than just what their instruments told them. A nudge here and a clone pilot flipped his fighter around, coasting on momentum, triggering his cannons into deflection shots that nailed an Umbaran fighter, dropping its shields. The pilot’s wingman fired as well a moment later, causing the enemy fighter to explode into debris.

Reluctantly, my will began pushing down on the Umbaran pilots.

These were men who were just defending their home. They didn’t care about politics or grand machinations of the CIS or Republic. There was just their little bubble of responsibility and their wingmen. Some had families, others were single or they were the pride of their families.

I pushed such considerations to the back of my mind and refocused.

This was war.

The blood of these pilots was on the architect of the war and I had my own men to worry about.

My meditation pushed down on the psyches of the Umbaran pilots.

You will not win.

Go home, surrender. Live another day to see your families.

Your cause is hopeless.

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I stared through the Resolute’s bridge viewports at the barely contiguous wreckage of Venator S0984, the second and last ship lost to the orbital defense grid surrounding Umbara.

Search and rescue operations were underway as there had been enough time for a majority of the crew to get to escape pods when the writing had been on the wall for the ship. 

One destroyed Venator, another mission-killed that might be hyperspace worthy enough to return to KDY under its own power and fighter losses of just over forty percent. Add in the starship crew deaths, that numbered in the thousands and the butcher's bill was just barely tolerable within the regs.

The only thing that kept the entire invasion going was the fact that we had kept every Acclamator away from the battle.

In that regard, the fleet had yet to penetrate the Umbaran atmosphere, because every tug and ship with a tractor beam was on space cleanup duty to keep orbits and flight paths safe enough for general use.

The aerospace around the planet was also far from secure and ready squadrons had already been engaged by more Umbaran fighters launching from air bases on the surface.

For the last eight hours it felt like I had been playing a planetary sized game of whack-a-mole.

The air bases were not obvious from space and many had been built into mountains and canyons. Every time the Umbarans sent a squadron, which were bristling with mounted torpedoes, we identified the base’s location and retaliated with a combined ARC and Z95 strike to destroy the base.

Keeping the fleet’s fighters in good condition was working their crews to the bone.

Even the Mandalorian fighter squadrons were out there, just because we needed every fighter in space to keep the Umbaran defenders suppressed.

For safety, I had the entire fleet in one formation with the Bastions ready to bring their shield repairs to bear. That unfortunately meant that the blockade duty was another task that the fighters had to partially bear.

Four shuttles and cargo ships of various types had already tried their luck to run the blockade.

After they had been disabled, their crews detained and the ships inspected, it turned out that they had been crammed to the brim with umbarans. At first in interviews they had simply professed to be refugees who hadn’t agreed with the decision to secede from the Republic. Obi-Wan had immediately smelled a rat though.

“How many?” I asked Anakin as he came to a stop next to me.

“Nineteen engineers and scientists,” he answered.

“And every single one volunteered to run the blockade?”

He nodded, “I have to give the umbarans credit though. When they say they’re going to follow through on a deal, they do it. They agreed to a partial technology share with the CIS and despite everything that happened they still threw the dice on getting these scientists through.”

“And they’re loyal and patriotic enough that the scientists won’t spill those secrets to us in turn. Not unless we resort to mindwalkers or interrogation, the latter of which will neatly condemn the Republic as being everything the CIS says it is.”

“There will be those, especially in Republic Intel, who will see the Umbarans as outright traitors, Snips. That will excuse them to do… terrible things,” Anakin said, his eyes smoldering with anger at the thought.

‘Another blow by the enemy,’ I thought to him. ‘His corruption of the Republic is starting to bear terrible fruit and yet no one is seeing it.’

A long silence settled on us, as we watched the rescue shuttles and tugs working around the dead Venator, yet I could sense it wasn’t an entirely comfortable one.

I carefully picked apart the emotions I sensed from Anakin, being careful to present no inner and outward clue as to what I was doing. It took me a few moments to parse, but I eventually found a strange form of guilt and another emotion entangled with it that I couldn’t make sense of.

Now that was no good. We had an invasion to launch and this was not the time for emotional issues like this to rear their ugly head. Our heads had to be in the game.

‘Anakin, what’s the matter?’ I thought softly.

He was now standing somewhat stiffly with his hands folded behind his back. He gave me a brief glance before returning his eyes to the view outside.

‘It’s…’

‘Stop right there. I will not accept the words ‘fine’ or ‘it’s nothing’. Spill it, Anakin.’

He was clearly struggling to bring the words forward, to say it across the Bond. I found it amazing that the subject could even choke someone’s thoughts off. I already knew what was bothering him but I wasn’t going to let him chicken out.

His hands clenched and I even saw his jaw straining as his teeth exerted pressure on each other.

‘You had sex on Drongar.’

‘Well done, Skyguy,’ I mentally giggled. His angry eyes speared me with a brief look.

‘I fail to see what is so funny about it.’

‘I should really save my armor’s cam memory for today. That face you’re making is classic.’

‘Snips!’

‘Don’t Snips me, Anakin. Remember, I’m technically far older than you are. That I’ve reached an age in this life where I’m biologically and legally allowed to have sex is amazing!’

‘It’s not amazing. Who was it?’

I sighed and rolled my eyes visibly, steeling myself for the conversation to come. ‘Knight Zac Tedrad.’

‘The biologist you ‘recruited’?’

‘The very same. He’s very dreamy and excellent in bed. I think it's something all Zeltrons have instinctually, though he’s quite practiced. The Chapterhouse he was raised in was remarkably open minded about the whole thing apparently. He also did this trick with my lekku that I didn’t even know was possible-’

His eyes widened, ‘Gah! Snips! Too much information!’

‘And how do you think I feel when you and Padme are going at it in proximity to me?’ I retorted. I could sense he was squirming and didn’t want to answer that. ‘Precisely Anakin. I want you to imagine for a moment that you didn’t have sex for sixty years. Can you do that?’

He couldn’t really but I felt him balk in horror at the idea. ‘Somewhat.’

‘Now I fully admit that for the majority of those years I wasn’t physically capable of it anymore, old age, lost the drive for it. Now BANG, suddenly I’m this new me and going through childhood, puberty and so on again. Oh, and I just happen to fall in love with a human woman, then if that wasn’t bad enough, I go and fall for my master, who just so happens to be secretly married to that woman. In the meantime, I’ve got a bunch of busybodies back on Mandalore who want me betrothed and eventually producing heirs for politics! So are you beginning to get the picture, Anakin?!”

‘You… you just wanted a fling. Something uncomplicated. No commitments. You knew Tedrad would go for it because it’s in his very nature.’

‘Precisely. He is now just a friend with benefits. I hold no love for him, nor does he for me. Does that alleviate your jealousy, Anakin?”

‘Not really,’ he said in a frankly stunning level of admission. It showed just how much different Anakin now was in comparison to the one who eventually became Vader. ‘In the end, no matter what else I might feel, you’re still my padawan, Ahsoka. You know that comes with responsibilities and duties. I made an oath to you…’

‘Argh,’ I mentally snarled. ‘There are times I just feel like ripping these silka beads off!’

‘But you know you can’t,’ he said softly. I felt his spiritual presence coming close and wrapping me in the equivalent of a hug. ‘Obi-Wan would say one word now, and I can’t believe I’m repeating it because I’m proving myself the biggest hypocrite in the galaxy… patience, Ahsoka.’

I felt my shoulders slumping. ‘Patience,’ I thought despondently.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, his eyes soft and gave that annoying half smile, “Come, Snips. We have an invasion to begin.”

“Yes, master.”

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A/N: Yay, a spacebattle and the Bastions are here! It'll take a bit for them to become commonplace and you can bet they're going to rock the boat as people scramble for counters. Have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 91

The ramp leading up into Tank A634 opened with an agonizing slowness that Barriss knew was just her own impatience bleeding into her perceptions.

She didn’t even wait for the thing to properly unfurl before she flexed her legs and pushed off the ground, easily making the height with a Force assisted jump.

The instant she was in the main rear hold she felt it through the Force - pain.

Someone in here was in absolute agony.

It took a moment to confirm the direction to her left and she rushed towards a large set of pallets that had been stacked almost to the ceiling.

Her feet blurred and she came to a skidding stop and blinked in astonishment at the sight that greeted her.

Chewbacca stood there pinning Klo Merit against the durasteel wall of the cargo hold. The equani spy and saboteur was being held almost a meter off the floor and Chewbacca was using a single hand to do it. Merit’s mouth was incapable of emitting a sound due to the industrial binding tape wound around his mouth. His gray eyes were flushed red and leaking tears.

The source of his pain became immediately apparent as each of his limbs were hanging at unnatural angles and limply - clearly dislocated.

“Chewbacca, what is going on?” Barriss asked in horror.

The wookiee growled in anger, before slapping at the utility bandoleer he wore, switching on a small modular device mounted there. This close his anger radiated outward and shone like a star. He belted out rapid Shyriiwook that the device translated with only a slight delay.

“This madclaw sabotaged the medical droid, tried to kill Ahsoka! Using this.” He reached into a pouch on his belt and showed a Republic issue handheld logic probe. “Already looked at the programs on it. Skeleton key to unlock any secured door. Program to convince all 2-1B droids into killing their patients.”

Barriss walked forward warily, she didn’t particularly like the idea of getting close to a wookiee when angered. The small translator module was also seemingly struggling getting a proper lock on his words. She took the probe, fiddled with the base controls and its small holo interface popped up, showing the loaded programs.

“There’s also a few here that would’ve helped him board the bota transport ship, including a program set to monitor altitude, he probably used that one to set the explosive. So the ship would detonate exactly when it was going through the spore cloud layer… clever.”

Barriss felt her own anger rise at the equani, the urge to bury the blade of her lightsaber through his chest was growing. The deaths of the crew was directly on his hands, potentially many more since they didn’t know the full extent of his sabotage and spy activities. Then trying to kill her best friend by using a medical droid - it was mockery and perversion of the healing profession.  

The spy began twitching and moaning in pain from his throat as Chewbacca simply moved him an inch upward, jostling his dislocated limbs.

Barriss stepped forward and touched the equani’s limp hand to make a more thorough diagnosis of just what Chewbacca had done.

She shivered in horror again at seeing that the wookiee had also broken every major bone in those limbs as well.

“We need him capable of talking, Chewbacca. We have enough to arrest and expose him as a spy, but I have a feeling Ahsoka would want us to do something else instead.”

Chewbacca grumbled, “Yes, she would use him instead, play more spy games. Only kill when he outlived his usefulness or no other choice.”

“Lower him a bit, please? I need to reach his head.”

Chewbacca’s mouth twisted in vindictive pleasure, lowering the equani and making sure to jostle his useless limbs in as painful a manner as possible.

His muffled screams resounded throughout the empty cargo hold.

Barriss placed two fingers on the side of the spy’s head and began to work.

First she numbed the nerves constantly sending pain signals to the brain, but not completely. He would still feel it as a constant chronic pain, allowing him to regain his wits and coherent thought patterns.

“Remove the tape,” Barriss ordered.

Chewbacca complied, in the most painful manner possible by just grabbing hold of the edges and pulling.

“Ahhhhh! Ow! You mad savage!” Merit bellowed, his eyes frantic and angry, glaring at both Chewbacca and Barriss.

“Well, Mr Merit, how is this going to go? Are you going to deny it, stay silent or talk? I’ll tell you now we have more evidence than just this logic probe and your attempted murder of Commander Tano. We’ve been aware of your other activities for a while now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ll have you all brought up on charges- OW!”

“Mr. Merit, I’ve staved off the pain you should be feeling and can bring it back at will. We know about your connection to the Black Sun. We know your dealings are also connected to the Separatists. Yet you are also enabled in your role by Admiral Bleyd. A spy and saboteur with a three-way allegiance, that’s a new one for me.”

Merit glared and she could see his thoughts turning as he weighed the consequences and also a way he could get himself out of this situation, preferably directly into the sweet oblivion of anesthesia and a bacta tank. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind and his shoulders slumped somewhat.

“Fine, you caught me, congratulations. Guess I should’ve known better than to try things when two Jedi were around.”

One question was rather gnawing at Barriss and her curiosity would not be denied.

“Why, Merit? Why betray the Republic?”

The equani laughed hollowly and one side of his mouth sneered, “Why? Oh, that’s a good one. I suppose the time has finally come. Not that it’s going to change anything, so why bother? At this point, I know how it’s going to go. I’m too valuable to be ‘disappeared’, too high profile too. One of the last surviving equani. I was in a haze of pain but I heard what this savage said. So Commander Tano also plays the game, which is very interesting. Thought she’d be too young for it, but that’s the thing with you Jedi, defying norms and expectations at every turn. She should be dead, but somehow she survived, woke up and set this brute on me.” His eyes fixed on Barriss, “What do you know of how my world died?”

“An unprecedented coronal mass emission from your star,” she answered automatically, but immediately sensed his dark amusement at hearing it.

“Unprecedented, nice choice of words there, Padawan Offee. Yes, it was nicely hidden, masterfully presented to the public. The proper word that should be used… is accidental.”        

“What? How-?” Barriss’ perception of Merit’s physiology told her he wasn’t lying at least. “You mean someone did it?”

“Yes. Did you know that the Republic had a small research outpost on one of Equanus’ moons? Of course you don’t. It was highly secret, only the chancellor, select top officials and the scientists involved knew. They were testing a unique weapon there and in their ineptness, miscalculated.”

Barriss almost recoiled in horror and astonishment. “And this weapon misfire, somehow caused the coronal emission?”

“Correct. The science of it is entirely beyond me. The weapon was not even supposed to be activated, they were running what they thought was a low power test of some secondary components and as fate would have it, at that precise moment, it was aimed at the brightest light in the sky. In less than three minutes afterwards, before they could even analyze what had caused the problem, the weapon discharge hit the Equanus star, destabilizing a part of the star’s surface… and a massive CME erupted, heading straight for my homeworld.

“It was so strong that it managed to overwhelm the planet’s natural magnetosphere. Pushing it all the way back into the atmosphere itself. I can just imagine… how many died a fiery death in that instant. My only consolation would be that it was quick and painless. It was not quick and painless for the survivors on the other side of the planet. The CME had destroyed all interstellar communications, all satellites gone and what few interstellar ships we had suffered a variety of ill fates. It would be only months later when a routine trade mission entered that the news broke to the galaxy as a whole.”

“But the chancellor knew,” Barriss commented.

“Oh yes. What his thought processes were, I cannot precisely say. My own analysis of him shows a cunning politician, focused on personal survival above all and if it got out that he personally sponsored research that killed an entire race…”

“He would’ve faced a no-confidence vote immediately in the Senate.”

“Yes,” Merit grimaced as a hint of pain began leaking through. “However, very conveniently, the war began three months after the disaster and Palpatine has made sure all hard evidence is gone. Every scientist who worked at that outpost has vanished and the outpost itself was stripped clean of any evidence or equipment that would prove a weapon was built or tested there.”

“Which begs the question, how do you know this then?” Barriss asked pointedly.

“I was approached by Count Dooku. He showed me the proof. Proof that he had stolen from the Republic, to use as an ideological weapon, to show the true corruption of the Republic. How they preach peace and cooperation on one hand, but secretly destroy with the other. I thought, what better way to use the remainder of my life than to give it in service to the CIS. Helping them to bring the galaxy to a better place. To expose this benighted, corrupt Republic for what it truly is to the rest of the galaxy. So its yoke can be shaken off and something new can come in its place.”

“I suppose the fact that the Separatists are killing and destroying their way in campaigns across a hundred worlds just doesn’t enter into your moral equation?” Barriss asked wryly.

“Please, Padawan Offee,” he shook his head with a wince. “Spare me that argument. I know the sentient mind and it cannot be changed without sacrifice and trauma. We all just want to be comfortable in our little bubbles of status quo. Those bubbles need to be popped and most of the fighting and dying is taking place between clones and droids. Here on Drongar, all the bota will do is reinforce the bubbles of comfort, strengthen them. Which is why, for the moment at least, none must make it off world and into the hands of the Republic. When the CIS can show to the galaxy what a paradise they can make with it, more worlds will secede from this corrupt farce of a system.”

“And you would see the galaxy burn in the process,” Barriss retorted.

“If that’s what it takes. Ah! What are you doing?!”

“I just realigned your broken bones. Chewbacca here was being somewhat gentle in not giving you compound fractures. Here’s another thing for you to think about. How certain are you that Dooku was being truthful with you? That his evidence wasn’t crafted specifically for you?”

“No, I’m certain.”

“That was classified information. There is no way you could’ve corroborated it without revealing yourself and getting vanished in the process either.”

“No, no,” he shook his head frantically and laughed. “You think you know, but you don’t. I’ve seen it and nothing you say can make me doubt. I think our conversation has run its course, Healer Offee. Now be a good little Jedi and heal me.”

“Chewbacca,” Barriss prompted.

The big wookiee nodded and grabbed the spy’s limp left arm.

“No, what are you doing? Ah, the pain is back, what… aaahh!” he screamed frantically.

Chewbacca pushed the limb, which slotted back into its socket. He slowly repeated the process until everything was back where it belonged, but leaving Merit completely lost in the pain and aftershocks of the action.

“Good night, Mr Merit.” Barriss pushed on his brain in just the right way, inducing unconsciousness.

“What now?” Chewbacca asked.

“Take him to the tank’s sickbay, I’ll be shoving his limbs in bacta splints. I’ll report to the Rimsoo that he suffered an accident and I’m personally attending to him here.”

“How much time can that buy?”

“Enough, I think Ahsoka will want to have a chat with him when she wakes.”

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My eyes flickered open and I vaguely registered that I was back from the oblivion of sleep, even as I remembered the journeys of my inner worlds that the Darksaber and myself had taken.

If there was one ability that I enjoyed in this life, then proper lucid dreaming on demand was just so awesome.

“Mistress!” M8’s high voice thundered painfully in my right montral.

“M8,” I mumbled, turning my head slowly to face the helmet of my armor, perched on the side of the biobed. “How long was I out?”

“Two days, Mistress. You’ve been fed intravenously.”

I took an internal stock of myself, “Feels that way. My stomach is not happy about it.”

“Should I signal Barriss to bring you food, mistress?”

“Please do.” My eyes ranged across the small sickbay. “M8, why is Klo Merit in the bed across from me looking like he encountered a very angry wookiee?”

“That is because he did, mistress. He sabotaged the medical droid in here and attempted to kill you with it.”

“Which you naturally stopped and since Chewie was also here to keep an eye on me, he took it upon himself to enact some righteous retribution.”

“Precisely, mistress.”

“Where is the big hairy lump anyway?”

“It is currently early morning and he’s in the refresher after spending far too much time in his armor. I managed to convince him to leave your side by pointing out that you wouldn’t have appreciated his smell when you awoke and that Merit wasn’t going anywhere.”

“Is he sedated?”

“Barriss induced sleep using her abilities, mistress.”

“And also running damage control on how he got his injuries, no doubt,” I sighed and thought about how to use this turn of events.

In the meantime, I got my body back in gear with stretches and flexes of every muscle, encouraging increased blood flow to the parts of me that had suffered during my sedentary period. Next, I carefully sat up and supported myself with an arm on the bed, checking my balance and helping blood flow against the higher gravity.

“Wiggle your big toe,” I said idly, suddenly recalling that movie and chuckling at how strangely memory sometimes worked.

Everything felt fine, so I chucked my legs over the side of the bed and tested balance carefully before hopping on my feet. Another round of stretches for my arms and touching my toes whilst keeping my legs straight.

“Up and about, I see,” Barriss said as she entered the sickbay with a tray of food.

“Food, gimme! Thanks,” I said eagerly and pounced forward, snatching the tray from her grasp.

I sat my ass back into the chair that Chewie had probably used, grabbed the utensils and began shoveling food into my mouth as politely as I could.

“Not too fast now,” Barriss chided, coming forward to lean against the biobed. I could feel her surveying me through the Force and even throwing active probes into the mix. I could’ve easily stopped it, but I knew her concern for me was behind it, so let the probes through to satisfy her worry.

Once she was done, I pushed my own probe through the Force and the thin Bond we shared.

‘You did well,’ I thought to her.

‘M8 told you everything?’

‘Not everything, but I deduced enough.’

‘You really need to contact Admiral Yularen quickly. Bleyd tried to have you arrested on charges of disobeying standing orders.’

‘Figured that as well. You seem to have headed that off nicely. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Now what are we going to do with him?”

I chewed thoughtfully on a bit of meat, running a few probability lines. ‘He’s working for Bleyd, Black Sun and the CIS. Wow, never even though it was possible to have a quadruple agent.’

‘You want him to work for Republic Intelligence as well?’ Barriss thought incredulously.

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘Yes.’ I smirked cheekily at her

‘Stop that. What are you talking about, Ahsoka?’

‘I think he’s going to be working for you.’

‘Me? Ahsoka, I’m a healer, not an intelligence agent.’

‘After we have this conversation, you’ll be both. Please, find a chair.’

Barriss folded her arms in annoyance, then used the Force to pull a chair from the other side of the room, ‘You always do this,’ she complained. ‘Act all knowing and mysterious, only to pull the ground from under my feet.’

‘But it’s so fun,’ I mentally laughed at her. She actually pouted her lips and I couldn’t help the actual laugh that escaped my mouth.

“Enough Ahsoka, explain.’

‘Open yourself up, this is a conversation that can’t be spoken aloud, ever.’ My mood transitioning to dead seriousness gave her a bit of mental whiplash.

‘Oh, all right.’

I felt her defenses lower and I pulled her awareness across.

The sickbay vanished from our primary senses and now we were both standing in the endless black and white realm of my own mind.

Barriss looked around with fascination, testing her feet against the infinite black stone floor that somehow radiated white light. Also scrutinizing her own body, which also radiated that whiteness.

I stood a few feet from her, making sure to keep my own self-image to the one she was generally familiar with.  

“Not really how I imagined your inner world,” she commented, looking around.

“And how did you imagine it?” I snarked, unable to let that one go.

“I figured it’d be bizarre and incomprehensible, filled with all manner of twists and shapes that can’t exist in a normal universe.”

“Fair enough,” I shrugged. “This is only the lobby I prepared for you. All that stuff is a few infinities in that direction.” I pointed my right arm, which immediately became six dozen right arms indicating seemingly every direction.

Barriss rolled her eyes at my showmanship. “Can we get to the point?”

“Fine.”

The infinity around us changed.

It was evening and a fine night on Coruscant. The stars twinkled merrily with not a cloud in the sky. The immediate cityscape around us was still bustling with air traffic, but we were standing right on the edge of the exclusion zone. Inside the zone, the Jedi Temple stood majestically. The ziggurat and towers illuminated grandly as it always was.

We stood on the roof of one of the buildings. The fact that it was extremely clean and lacked the typical pollutive deposits betrayed that this was not the real thing.

Two comfortable chairs sprang into existence. “Have a seat.”

“Beautiful view,” Barriss commented after sitting down.

“Yes, I figured coming here would help soften the blow. What I have to say is not going to be easy to hear, Bar. You may come to hate me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ahsy.”

Her smile was interrupted when a thunderous roar washed over us. As nearly two dozen LAAT gunships and carriers roared into view.

Missiles rippled and streaked from dorsal launchers and slammed into the ziggurat walls of the Temple, blowing great chunks out of it.

Collimated lasers drew green beams of light through the air and cut the Temple Spire of Knowledge in half. The upper section toppled and fell, crunching into a dust cloud on the roof of the ziggurat.

The gunships landed and started to disgorge an entire legion of clone troopers.

Barriss’ mouth was hanging open, staring aghast as the destruction of our childhood home occurred before our eyes.

“Ahsy, what- what- why are you imagining this? Why show it to me?”

“This is not my imagination, Bar. I’m using my Prescience to perceive a time roughly two years from now.”

Her gaze was transfixed on events for a long moment as the clone troopers organized themselves into efficient skirmish lines, before advancing up the great steps in units. More gunships zoomed in and hovered near the ziggurat’s breaches, before jetpack trooper squads flew in, to pincer any internal defenses the Jedi were trying to hastily organize.

“No,” Barriss shook her head. “This is impossible. The clones wouldn’t do this, they’re meant to serve the Republic, we’re their commanders-”

“The clones do serve the Republic, but they also serve the man who sits in the chancellor’s seat. The man who also ensured that the entire clone army project was usurped to his own ends. The man who is the inheritor and the final arbiter of a plan centuries in the making, that leads up to this exact moment. The man who is also secretly in charge of the entire CIS behind the curtain, because his apprentice is their ‘head of state’. The man who is the current Sith Lord.”

I had drawn enough dots for her and she looked at me like I had grown two extra heads out of my lekku.

“Palpatine? He’s… you think he’s the one that trained the zabrak that killed Master Jin?”

“Yes, and I’m about to take you on a tour that will put any doubts you may have to rest. And to answer your next question, yes, I’ve had this level of foresight since I was that tiny youngling Master Koon found on Shili.”

Her eyes widened at my clear demonstration. She would’ve known if I was trying to interpret her thoughts, given how closely we were connected at the moment.

“This better be good, Ahsy.”

“It’s far from good, but in the end, you will understand.”

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A few hours later, I stood over the prone form of Klo Merit still ensconced on his biobed and bacta splints, Chewbacca looming behind me.

I poked the equani forehead with a finger, bringing him to consciousness and not being gentle about it. From his point of view, he went from his species equivalent of REM sleep to instantly awake in a few moments. It was awfully jarring and the abrupt increase in blood flow induced a nasty headache.

“Ah! By the stars!” he complained, trying to cradle his own head, only to realize he was still in his casts. His eyes locked onto the T-shaped visor of my helmet, then Chewie behind me and his fear spiked considerably. As much as he tried to not physically show it, he instinctively pulled his head back deeper into the cushion behind his neck.

“Mr Merit, good of you to join us.” 

“Going to torture me some more?” he tried to sneer, but it was rather lacking in heart. I had his entire existence over a barrel of a blaster. Attempted assassination of a senior officer in the GAR could put him in front of a firing squad in extreme cases, but as it depended on Admiral Bleyd, I doubted he would go for that option. It was messy, public and the chances that Merit would expose Bleyd’s own corruption was too high. Bleyd was also rather interestingly capable of ‘disappearing’ Merit with no pangs of conscience or regret. He’d even do the deed himself with a blaster then dispose of the body using carbon freezing and the void of space.

“No, no point. You’re more valuable alive and being a good little spy and saboteur. You’ll largely go right back to doing what you were doing before.”

“I’ll never work for the Republic,” he hissed with extreme vitriol. “You might as well order your walking carpet to kill me.”

Chewie growled in anger, even as I blinked in astonishment at the insult of a future Princess Leia coming from Merit’s mouth. It was a rather obvious comparison to make regarding wookiees, so I didn’t read much more into it. A future Chewie would tolerate it without a sound because Leia had been their payday and would allow them to pay off Jabba’s debt.

I placed a telekinetic hand on Chewie’s shoulder to calm him down. The probability line where he barged forward and demonstrated the whole ‘ripping people’s arms off’ thing was rather disturbing and messy.

“You will not be working for the Republic. You will be working for me.”

“You?” he asked incredulously. “Don’t be ridiculous, little miss Jedi.”

“I am also a Mandalorian and I am offering you the one thing that Dooku can never deliver on.”

“Oh, and what is that?”

“Revenge against those who are truly responsible for your species’ extinction.”

He frowned as I felt his racial empathy probing me and I carefully layered my honest emotions into a weave for his probe to run into.

“You’re being serious,” his mouth slackened slightly with astonishment. “Are- are you sure you’re a Jedi? The Republic is responsible and you’d…”

I held up a hand. “What Dooku showed you was perfectly true. However, did it not occur to you to wonder just how he had acquired such perfect and convincing evidence of the superweapon being tested on Equanus’ moon?”

Merit opened his mouth to answer, but stopped himself. He frowned and I saw his eyes slightly twitching as he searched his own mind for the answer. “No… I just assumed… I was so angry, emotional… It didn’t even occur to me.”

“Why would a former Jedi Master who left the order nearly twelve years ago, have access to such high level intelligence? Why would any Jedi have anything to do with the construction of a weapon that has the potential to create extinction events? Anything powerful enough to set off a CME, has the potential to devastate any standard garden world it’s used on, in other words, a planet killer.”

I could see Merit’s brain practically bluescreening as he processed those conclusions. I waited patiently as he processed things further and started seeing his entire conversation with Dooku in an entirely new light.

The instant Barriss told me of just why Merit had become a spy, the truth of the equani extinction, it brought an instant realization to me.  

Equanus was in a far northern sector of the galaxy, just a single day's journey from where Mortis had been. Just off the little used Veragi Hyper Route. It was consequently out of sight and mind. Combine this with an insular population, then it made the entire system a nice little testing ground for things you didn’t want the galaxy to see. If something went wrong, it would also give you enough time to do a cleanup and spin whatever story you wanted.

To my mind, Equanus’ moon had therefore been used as a testing bed for an early prototype Death Star class superlaser.

“He was part of it as well,” hissed Merit in anger.

“Well done. I didn’t even have to lead you there. Yes, Dooku is part of this conspiracy Mr. Merit. He and his CIS are furthering the research that was begun on your homeworld’s moon.”

Palpatine was also doing it on the Republic side, but I wasn’t about to tell Merit that.

“And how would you know that?”

“That I won’t tell you, Mr. Merit. Suffice it to say that Dooku is my enemy, as is anyone who is pursuing this research, no matter which side of the fence they fall on in this war.” I tented my hands under my chin and projected my earnestness towards him. “At this point you have a choice - work for me or don’t work for me. If you don’t work for me… Well, I reveal the evidence that you tried to kill me. I’m sure you can work out the consequences of that. Your usefulness as a spy will be gone and the CIS, Black Sun and Bleyd will be scrambling to silence you in whatever manner they can.

“If you work for me, then things stay as they are. Only now you will secretly report to Healer Offee, who is my contact on Drongar as long as she remains on this world. If that should change, a means of secure communication will be left for you to remain in contact with me.”

“And you’ll just let me… keep spying and sabotaging?”

“If you stopped you wouldn’t exactly be useful to me in the end, would you?” I asked dryly. “I do want everything you know about the Black Sun.”

“If I tell you, they’ll know-”

“Despite appearances I’m not exactly new to the spy business at this point, Mr. Merit. I don’t want your information to go on a crusade against them. It’s simply to use as a starting point for further covert activities which you don’t need to know or worry about. Now tell me, what is your choice?”

He snorted with annoyance, “Not much of a choice is it. Very well, I’ll show you where to get my Black Sun files. They can all jump into a black hole for all I care. I was just using them as a convenient supplier. It’s Bleyd that wants to make fortune and glory. Speaking of that bastard, are you going to do anything about him?”

“No, there’s little need for that. His ambition and greed will eventually get the better of his common sense. Sooner or later, he’s going to do something that will anger the Black Sun. Then the instant he sets foot on this planet again, there’s going to be an unfortunate accident waiting for him.”

I bowed, “Goodbye Mr. Merit. I’d offer to shake hands on our cooperation…”

“Yes, yes, whatever. You got what you wanted. Now leave me in peace to deal with this headache.”

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I gave Barriss most of the rest of the day to process and come to terms with things. It was not easy to have the wool finally pulled from your eyes, showing her what was happening behind the curtains of this war and who was the true enemy we fought.

It had been quite difficult to keep despair from settling into her mind. I had to remind her that there were Jedi who could defeat Palpatine in a martial contest if it came down to it. It was just a matter of getting the pieces into position and straining his plans more and more, whilst hiding from his foresight.

That was the true battle.

Now that Merit and Barriss were part of Fulcrum, with only the latter knowing the name at all. I healed the equani enough so he was presentable in public again and could leave the tank.

The Blades and the surviving crew of Juggernaut Tank A634 got themselves saddled up on board and ready for our journey back to the 205th HQ. Barriss would remain at the Rimsoo to keep a close eye on Merit.

I found her waiting for me near the aft ramp, clearly wanting to talk before we said our goodbyes and part ways.

“Can we have a walk?” she gestured to the general direction of the Rimsoo’s perimeter.

“Of course.”

We ambled away, just enjoying each other’s company. The fresh bout of monsoon rain erupting from the heavens was the only thing that marred the experience.

‘I’m still not sure whether to laugh, cry or just…’ she thought to me.

‘Steal the first ship you can, leave your lightsaber behind and find the most out of way spot in the galaxy to disappear into a hermitage?’

‘That’s quite well put, Ahsy. Given it some thought yourself?’

I looked up at the oppressively rainy sky, ‘Nearly every day, when I contemplate the enormity of the task. Sometimes it feels like I’m trying to unring a bell.’

‘But you don’t do that. You don’t give in.’

‘No, because I refuse to accept that we are trapped. We will find a way.’

‘I hope we do, because the very idea that I would ever fall so far as to plant a bomb in the Jedi Temple and frame you for it is impossible to fathom.’

I waved her worry off. ‘That is a probability line that was staved off long ago.’

‘Yes, but will I not just fall into some other form of darkness?’

‘If you remain vigilant and do not succumb to despair, then I do not foresee that fate for you. I’ve already nudged things by recruiting you into Fulcrum.’

She began to worry, but not for herself. ‘Ahsoka, the fact that you haven’t fallen is a miracle. You see so much death and darkness for the galaxy. It would be enough to drive anyone to madness.’

‘I won’t lie by saying I’m not worried about it. The enemy has begun plans for my fall to the Dark Side. He’s trying to bring about a future where my master and I join him as Sith apprentices. He wishes to do away with the Rule of Two and bring about the rise of his New Sith Order as an eternal ruler on his new galactic throne. He’s well on his way to achieving a form of immortality that will make it feasible.’

‘That he’s perverted his use of the Force to such an extent is… there’s no words for it, Ahsoka.’

‘There isn’t, but it’s what we must deal with if he is to be truly defeated.’

Barriss stopped and turned to face me, holding out an arm. ‘Then we will do it, together, Ahsy. I will do everything in my power to help you.’

I grasped her arm and nodded. ‘Thank you, Bar. Remember, work not to just defeat the enemy specifically. Going down that path is self-defeating, because we will excuse and allow ourselves to commit horrors all in the name of defeating him. We must become our best selves, then we will defeat him by just being who we are.’

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“Any difference to report so far?”

I sat down on a stool in Laboratory 9 and took off my helmet, arching my neck so Tedrad could draw a blood sample.

My mind was still trying to come up with the proper words as I felt the cold touch of the hypogun and a slight hiss as blood left my body into the sample container. I consciously kept my gaze from meeting his jade green eyes that had a magnetic pull all on their own and threatened to swallow me.

“I did a few tests on the way. Things are definitely easier to do, whereas before I’d need to expend some mental effort, focus and concentration, now it’s like it just comes… naturally?”

He nodded in understanding, walking to an analyzer and inserting the sample. A few button presses at a nearby terminal and the machine began buzzing and humming.

“A fairly common result so far,” he said, turning around to face me and leaning against the desk. “What you and Healer Offee did was felt by every Jedi on the planet. Amazing technique.”

He stared at me looking very impressed.

I coughed uncomfortably but managed to keep my wits in the face of this seemingly perfect male. “Healer Offee will come and teach you. However, I trust you understand that it must remain something not advertised in the current climate. It’s meant to potentially save your life and it can only do that if it remains a surprise to any potential adversary.”

“If I was a traditional Jedi, I’d say that knowledge must not be hoarded. I am far from a traditional Jedi, Commander Tano. Very well, I’ll make sure to tell the others. Anything else of note?”

There was, but telling him was not a good idea. I was playing a very careful balancing act here. On the one hand, it would be strange if nothing improved or changed, on the other, I had to omit some of the bota catalyzed improvements because of the eventual inevitability that the reports would find its way to Palpatine’s desk.

If I became too powerful to control in his eyes then the consequences for my long term battle against him was dire.

“No, just a general improvement in everything. I still have more doses to take, maybe something will happen then.”

“Maybe, I’m only taking this sample now since you’re returning to your ship, it’ll at least give a baseline to the improvement.”

The moment was approaching.

There were countless forks in the road of probability I faced daily. Most were insignificant and I’d pass through them with no more than a glancing thought, since the primary trajectory didn’t veer off no matter which direction I went. The only consequences they had were personal to me, even if they also involved someone else. Then on the other side of the spectrum, there were fractal moments of titanic importance to the trajectory of everything, influencing the destiny of a person, a planet, a sector or galactic civilization.

Bendu had helped me greatly to properly navigate through the seas of probability, figuratively giving me a rudder and thrusters, instead of the relatively inept paddle I had been using before Mortis. 

My decision was this - leave the final vestiges of innocence and naivety behind me and embrace adulthood or keep it and let the enemy gain a full analysis of my post-bota biology. Even if I succeeded now, there were ways he could gain it later, but the difference would be enough to matter in relation to time.

The analyzer beeped that it was done.

“There we go, all done. Now that’s over with,” Tedrad folded his arms behind his back, the action splitting his Jedi robe to reveal a slit of the body glove beneath. “Padawan Tano, can I help you?”

I stood from my chair, also moving my hands behind my back, though in my case it was to tap out instructions to M8 on the gauntlet of my left arm. “Help me with what, Tedrad?” I asked with a slight smirk.

He sighed with a slightly put-upon expression, “You are practically bursting with unfulfilled want and arousal. You could’ve taken care of that before you came here, yet you didn’t. If you walked like that around Zeltros, you’d be mobbed with offers and proposals. You controlled yourself admirably during your first visit, doubly so given it was your first exposure to one my kind. Now you’re here, like that, and I can only conclude you want to indulge yourself.”

“Perhaps I just want to distract you,” I countered logically, taking a step forward, focusing on those glorious pecs beneath the robe.

“I sense you speak the truth,” he took a slow step forward toward me. No zeltron worth their salt could really resist it when people felt like this. They really disliked negative emotions, just wanting to turn them into positive ones. “Do you know how I made it through the Jedi Order all the way to knighthood without leaving scandal in my wake?”

“The only way I can imagine that, is if you weren’t raised in the Coruscant Temple, a chapterhouse perhaps?”

He nodded, “Good guess. I also conclusively demonstrated to the High Council that I could control myself and manage others if they were unable to control themselves.”

“I am in firm control of myself, Tedrad.”

He frowned and walked closer until he was within arms reach, his gaze searching my face and eyes, through the Force, he also extended probes that bounced off my defenses. He otherwise saw exactly what he needed to see.  

“Yes… yes you are,” he said with honest surprise. “Well, I have been on a bit of a dry spell lately since my assignment to this world.”

“Really?”

“Too much work. I also stay away from the clones and others. The other Jedi weren’t interested either. This world is awful and inspires such negative emotion in everyone. I’d run myself into the ground trying to turn things around and any other zeltron would never come here unless forced. You’re honestly a breath of fresh air, Tano. This world hasn’t dampened your spirits yet. Be thankful you don’t have a long term assignment here.”

My armor cracked open, the back unfolding and I ducked through the neck ring to climb out of it.

Tedrad was briefly distracted by the spectacle before I emerged from behind it. Now only wearing the void black body glove that served to keep me comfy in even the most hostile environments.

I stopped directly in front of him and looked up slightly into his face. Behind my iron control, my stomach was doing flip flops. He gave me a single raised brow and his appreciative eyes and emotions told me he was very much liking what he was seeing and sensing.

Our embrace came slowly, my arms over his shoulders, whilst his enveloped my lower back.

“Are you sure… Ahsoka?”

There were many reasons to just back off and just excuse it away as a misjudgment. At that moment, when I crossed the fork of probability at last. All doubt fell away. I had shied away during our first meeting, because that was simply hormones and a lack of control speaking. Now… I wanted this. Plain and simple. Not just for some distraction to achieve a goal in my war, that was just incidental at this point. I wanted to just feel and do something to relieve years of building frustration, to be close to someone in that way again. If Tedrad was coming from a dry spell of months. I was coming from a cumulative spell of nearly sixty years.

“Yes, I am.”

There wasn’t much need for words after that.

Our mouths were too busy trying to devour each other in a kiss that immediately rose to rank number one in experience over the span of two lifetimes, even if it counted as the latter lifetime’s first kiss.

I felt Tedrad’s delight and honest surprise that I clearly wasn’t some inexperienced blushing virgin and it was clearly confusing him.

He didn’t let that get in the way though and his enthusiasm doubled, his hands going down to possessively grab me by the ass as our tongues dueled each other.

My impatience and horniness got the better of me though. I broke the kiss, grabbed his hands off my butt and led him out of the lab.

Like hell we were doing it in there, amongst all that sensitive and expensive equipment it was just asking for trouble.

My farsight effortlessly found the closest bed and it was clearly Tedrad’s own apartment which was just two doors down from his lab. Typical nerd.

We burst through the door already kissing again with a passionate need and clawing at each other to get rid of the last barriers between us.

Our respective body gloves were only hanging off our waists before we were together again, our infectious passion building. The feeling of his pecs and abs on my front was sending my brain into a delirious frenzy as I fought against his tongue.

I even managed to call on the Force, using it to push down and take off the last vestiges of our clothing.

His erect member was now sandwiched between our abdomens and the feeling had me moaning into his mouth with want. His hands were now gently kneading my breasts, but he stopped that much to my own irritation and grabbed my butt again.

Together we walked backward, our heightened breathing hissing through our noses and fell on the single bed.

Initially we were just laying there kissing on our sides, but Tedrad quickly changed things and with the dexterity and speed of a Jedi, broke our kiss, grabbed me by the waist and guided me up.

He ended up sitting on his ankles with me in turn sitting on his lap, my legs open on either side of his thighs. His arms snaked under my own, his left hand alternately fondling a breast and lekku. He definitely knew what to do with the latter, playing softly with the sensitive appendage as if he was a musician with a guitar. His right hand went down between my legs and his deft fingers got to work there too. His tongue and lips were also kissing my neck and rear lekku with expert technique and passion.

The final touch on the position was his penis playing along the lower part of my pussy.

All this made me a very eager and willing recipient of this pleasure, my own hands reaching back over my shoulders to play with his white hair.

My eager body wanted to race to the finish, but I conquered it with the vicious hand of Control.

Tedrad clearly delighted in testing that and he redoubled his efforts.

I retaliated with my right hand going down, collecting some of my leaking juices as lubricant, then grabbing his slick zeltronhood. He stiffened immediately as I got to work returning the favor.

It turned into a contest of wills for nearly eighteen torturous minutes, but with his natural advantage I eventually gave in and rode my climax with a groan and a shout to the heavens. 

He showed how unfair it was being a zeltron, when he finally sheathed himself in me. My vastly sensitive depths were still in a post-orgasmic state and he took full advantage as he tried to rob me of my last vestiges of wits. Then he began thrusting and I could sense he was still maintaining an expert hold on his brinkmanship.

Bastard, I thought deliriously.

He pushed me to a second orgasm just four thrusts later.

I started clenching on him in rhythm with each thrust, including calling on the Force - which was in a very agitated state around us, practically radiating with power as we continued.

That finally did the trick in eroding his control and his brinkmanship finally failed when he began frantically pistoning into me. He began shouting some form of erotic expletives in Zeltron that I couldn’t make out, but the feeling in the words were clear. Figured that a culture centered on hedonism would have a vast and pleasant sounding library of those words. 

His climax finally came and he bit my shoulder as he emptied himself in me with a final deep thrust that he held there.

We were both sweating buckets at this point, breathing hard from our exertions and just remained joined for a while.

Then I felt him calling on the Force for rejuvenation.

Not about to be left behind I did the same.

His arms enfolded me and he spun me around, smoothly transitioning our position into a reverse cowgirl.

This was going to be a long day.

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Eventually even Jedi stamina was worn out. I was snuggling and cuddling on top of Tedrad, his left hand idly tracing circles on my back and lekku. The thin blanket of his quarter’s bed was partially draped over us.

“How long until you have to leave?” he asked.

Urgh, the rest of the galaxy was not what I wanted to think about now. Nevertheless, I gave a glance at his wall mounted chrono.

“The shuttle is due to take off in forty minutes,” I said, resting my head back on his chest.

“You are mosht.”

I sighed and perched myself with my arms on his chest to look down on him. Figured that a zeltron Jedi would realize there was something weird about me. “And that means?”

“Closest Basic translation would be ‘Incorporate’. Your shmǎ or spirit has swum through the Force to return from death and you’re enlightened enough to remember.”

“Your people actually have a word for this?” I asked in amazement, not even bothering to dither or deny.

“Most of our greatest prophets were mosht, the last confirmed one was over fifteen hundred years ago. It’s passed into legend, but zeltron Jedi keep a hidden archive of our own in the Zeltros system.”

“And you’re actually telling me because?” I asked pointedly.

“It’s not like you could find it without being a zeltron, but the appearance of a mosht is… worrying, Ashoka. They are not a herald of pleasant times, combine this with the war, your role in it and your master being the Chosen One…” he shook his head, his mood very troubled.

“Yes, I can see how that would be concerning.”

“Concerning?” he laughed incredulously. “A master of understatement you are.”

“Zac, I can only say this,” I met his eyes seriously. “Bury and protect our time together and this realization in the deepest parts of yourself. Barriss will soon come to you with training, put your all into mastering it. At the very least, do that. Later, you will be contacted with a proposal, please keep an open mind.”

I felt him reach out with the Force for guidance and eventually he smiled, palming my left cheek affectionately. 

“Even should Yoda himself ask, I will not say. This goes beyond the Order.”

“Somewhat-” The door chime to Zac’s quarters resounded. I froze briefly with a pit of panic before pushing my senses beyond the door. “It’s okay. It’s my droid, M8.” My will reached out to unlock and open the door.

Zac’s eyes widened at seeing my armor walk in with my helmet under its arms, like some bizarre headless horseman expy.

“Mistress! Did you have fun with your new friend?”

I rolled my eyes, “Yes, M8. I did. What is it?”

“A communication came through from Master Skywalker. I indicated you were busy with scientific work in a laboratory, leaving me behind for a cleanroom suit and therefore took a message.”

“Clever,” I complimented, smiling at my armor. “Is it classified eyes only or can Zac see it?”

“Knight Tedrad has the clearance to view this.” M8 held up her arm palm outward and a life sized holo of Anakin appeared.

“Snips, get your butt out of the lab and back to the Resolute. Intelligence package is waiting for you on board. Resupply at the closest base. Then make best speed for Umbara.”

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 A/N: Barriss recruited, check :-) And another ;-) with a handy skillset and other benefits. Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend. Stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 90

Ahsoka rattled off her plan for destroying hundreds of war droids with what little they had on hand.

It was crazy and simultaneously so brilliantly obvious Barriss couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of it immediately.

“They are approaching from the north-west. The marshlands in that direction means very slow going for any landbound force. It’s one of the reasons the Rimsoo was placed here and the local command never imagined the Separatists would ever have the patience or capability to use it. Given the nearest enemy base is 190 km away, these droids were probably issued some form of disposable power storage, giving them the extra range and uptime to make a long multi-day march.”

Her friend tapped the current GAR positions on the map. Most were patrolling and guarding the closest bota fields. The game of numbers, time and priorities was not looking good. They couldn’t leave the fields unguarded and pull all their units away to defend the Rimsoo. What numbers could get there in time was simply too few.

“The Rimsoo will have to leave, even if your crazy plan succeeds,” Barriss concluded. “If the GAR pulls all its units in, that leaves the harvesters open to attack by commando droids, which are notoriously hard to detect.”

“I have to give Klo Merit or his handlers credit, this attack is perfectly timed. In all the chaos of evacuation, he has a free hand to do what he wants to the cargo ship,” Ahsoka tapped the position of the ship in question, which had now landed in a large clearing south of the Rimsoo, that had been cleared for ships picking up bota. It was still being loaded with the precious cargo and going faster with it was not an option.

“We should really stop him, Ahsoka,” she just had to argue. Letting the ship, its crew and all that bota just go up in smoke was difficult to accept.

“We should, but we can’t. Not if we want to root this corruption out, Barriss. By the way, can I see your lightsaber for a moment?” Ahsoka traced her fingers along a terrain contour map she brought up.

Barriss blinked at the sudden question. “Sure, why?” 

She unclipped the weapon from her belt and held it up. Ahsoka walked over to scrutinize it, before reaching out to turn it around and see the small panel that held the knobs to control the various aspects of the weapon.

“I see,” the togrutan murmured to herself. “Barriss, for this battle I’m going to ask you to trust me and do something that is going to seem rather strange.”

“At this point Ahsoka, strange is a word I think you should have as your middle name,” she teased her friend with a grin.

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The enemy was near.

Barriss stood in the aft cockpit of the Juggernaut, only two clone troopers were here at the controls, but the rest of the space was dominated by the six mandos with their slugthrowers resting on the edges of the vision slits. The transparisteel lowered to allow the barrels to poke outside.

A small line of troopers waited in the tiny corridor outside the cockpit, each one with more slugthrowers and ammunition, who would have the job of passing freshly reloaded weapons back to the mandos the instant their guns ran out.

“All right everyone, we’ve found our way up, it’s going to be a bumpy ride so hold on to your behinds!” shouted Dozer’s voice over the tank’s PA.

The tank’s reactor audibly began increasing output and Barriss could even hear the various electric motivators begin straining as they were pushed and pushed to give more momentum to the mass of the tank.

She had to push with her hands against the low ceiling of the cockpit to keep her balance as the speed increased over the beach terrain to levels it was certainly not recommended for the tank.

Then the tank swerved to her right and the breath was nearly knocked out of her lungs from the abrupt impact.

The giant wheels groaned and grinded against their impromptu natural ramp in the cliff face, which was at just enough of an angle to count as such.

It was still at the edge of performance of what the tank could handle, but there was no choice in the matter if they wanted to achieve anything.

Barriss gritted her teeth as the view outside was replaced with the churning white beach they had just driven over.

The tank climbed, wheels chopping up the slanted cliff as the tank grasped for traction… and found it.

Barriss felt the surge of acceleration in her stomach and the beach in front of her lurched away as the tank climbed.

In barely a few seconds the front wheels cleared the upper edge of the cliff, the nose of the Juggernaut briefly surging into the air.

‘Surprise, frakking shabla!’ she heard Ahsoka thinking with a vicious triumph.

The Juggernaut’s center of mass passed over the lip and nearly thirty meters of tank stuck up in the air, before it began tipping over.

Barriss felt like her stomach wanted to fall to the floor as the tank regained its equilibrium, subjecting the rear of the tank to a nasty upward acceleration.

The front of the tank fell right on top of a full squad of mixed B1s and B2s, struggling slowly to move through harsh terrain.

“OPEN FIRE!”

The slugthrowers began roaring.

In the confines of the cockpit it would’ve been enough to shatter anyone’s hearing. Barriss was very thankful at that moment for the trooper helmet she was wearing. In any other circumstance she wouldn’t have needed it, but her full concentration and power would be needed for her job ahead.

Through Ahsoka she began to feel the light touch of Battle Meditation from her friend.

It was like a very subtle warm blanket of comfort and confidence wrapped in the occasional suggestion and pull of her attention. Her awareness of the battlefield was also like a brief snapshot of a holo coming through.

“Blades!”

As one, every mando stopped firing and shoved their right arms out the cockpit windows.

A dozen Whistling Bird smart munitions erupted from the tank.

Barriss hadn’t even known such a weapon could really exist, but it made so much sense for the Mandalorians to have developed a weapon meant to equalize a playing field where numbers were usually against them.

In one fell move, between the tank acting as a hammer, the first slugthrower volley and now the Whistling Birds… nearly 173 droids were crushed, dead or reduced to combat ineffectiveness by being blinded from smart munition hits.

And that was just the beginning.

The Juggernaut pushed its speed hard and began aiming to drive and crush over more of the enemy.

The element of surprise was spent though.

This was not dense jungle but open marshland and upwards of six hundred droids now had a clear line of fire on the tank.

‘Barriss, now!’ Ahsoka thought.

She felt her friend in the forward cockpit almost exploding with the Force.

Barriss closed her useless eyes at this point and joined in, pulling with all her strength and letting the Force flow.

Through their thin Bond, their actions unified, their senses were shared.

They both PUSHED!

This was not the technique she was used to however, so she let Ahsoka take the lead, much like someone taking the lead in a dance.

The explosive slugs of nearly twelve droid companies began halting in mid-air then detonated on the effective Force Shield they were projecting outward. A constant unidirectional kinetic event horizon they were holding around the speeding tank. Barriss couldn’t help but marvel inwardly at the technique. This was definitely not something she’d ever heard of or studied in the Jedi Temple - which meant Ahsoka had to have developed it herself.

Every slug coming towards the tank stopped, but every slug the mandos were firing in the other direction was actually given an effective boost to double their velocity.

She saw a B1’s chassis literally shredded, leaving its legs and head to fall into the wet marsh, whilst the chest became shrapnel.

A B2’s armor was actually pierced before the explosive shell detonated inside.

More droids died thanks to the tank squashing them continuously under its massive nine meter diameter wheels.

“Yeah! Eat my armored wheels, clankers! Ha ha haaa!” shouted Lt. Dozer with glee.

The closest droids tried to scatter out of the way, but the muddy terrain made things extremely difficult and the tank was hitting speeds of 90 kph.

Water and mud fountained into the air from the massive front wheels.

Dozer ordered his tank to begin a curving back and forth course, to run over as many droids as possible.

The mando’s were firing non stop, passing their empty weapons back to be reloaded whilst the troopers handed them freshly loaded slugthrowers.

That was when the first thermal detonator went off.

The explosion slammed into the shield and fended it off but Barriss felt like someone had just taken a hammer to her focus and strength.

‘Ahsoka!’

‘Figured they’d try that eventually. They’re not going to let us just crush and shoot them indefinitely. There’s a clever organic commander in charge of this attack.’

Another B1 charged itself into the tank, setting off its detonator just before the shield.

Barriss gritted her teeth, calling more on the Force to shore up the technique. She felt Ahsoka do the same, but it was equally taxing to her friend.

What were these B1’s doing equipped with grenades?! It was insane. The explosive effect in the hyper oxygenated atmosphere was significantly worse. The detonations were bad enough to devastate nearly eighty square meters of land and it was also killing more droids in the process, but the enemy commander clearly didn’t care. They also probably thought the wet marshlands would be enough to prevent runaway fires from potentially affecting any nearby bota fields.

‘Focus Barriss,’ Ahsoka encouraged. ‘The Force is our ally. We will keep the shield up as long as we need to.’

She pulled with all her might to internalize that thought and make it a reality. Drawing on the odd yet familiar Force energies of the planet around her, shoring up the shield after another B1 detonated itself against it.

The mando’s stopped firing and Barriss realized they were taking a few precious seconds to reload their right arm bracers with another Whistling Bird shot.

Three seconds later a volley of smart munitions burst out of the tank, whistling and zooming in all directions with faint vapor trails behind them.

They sought the fragile B2 sensor clusters and with B1s the thin neck joint to the main body.

Only 86 droids died, the chaotic conditions of the battle fouling the small sensors of the smart munitions as they lost targets and ran out of propellant.

Three B1s detonated themselves at the front of the tank just as it was about to run them over.

The metaphysical blow, which was shared between them almost had Barriss keeling over from the shock, as the technique greedily pulled more of the Force to shoring up the defense.

‘Shabla!’ Ahsoka groaned. ‘Stay with me, Barriss!’

How could she expect this from me?! She thought irrationally. They were channeling more power than what most Masters came close to expending in a year!

‘No doubts, Barriss!’ Ahsoka admonished immediately. ‘Follow!’

She did and felt the shield being pulled back until it was almost an extra skin around the Juggernaut.

That felt much better but it merely delayed the inevitable.

‘How many Whistling Bird shots do the mandos have left?’ she thought desperately.

‘Enough,’ thought Ahsoka flatly.

A few seconds later, the mandos fired another volley.

104 droids died, including a number of B1s who’s thermal detonators went off prematurely and devastated any nearby droids, killing dozens.

Barriss imagined it would have killed more in any other situation, but the droids were in a dispersed formation in the marshlands, to avoid potentially getting bogged down with so many heavy steel footsteps churning up the muddy earth.

“Dozer! Fire the flex launchers!”

Barriss was momentarily surprised but realized it was just thought leakage from Ahsoka’s urgent order.

She felt the clone tank commander immediately object, as it went against standing orders.

“I’m overruling that. The theater commander is not in this tank, you and I are! Do this or we’re dead!”

An agonizing few seconds passed and Barriss felt the side mounted panels of the tank open.

Dozens of anti-droid cluster rockets burst out of two launchers.

They turned and burst in the air.

A rain of submunitions fell from the sky and swept away every droid within a ninety meter diameter area around the rushing tank. The explosions sent large geysers of mud and water shooting into the sky.

Barriss felt her mind beginning to get fuzzy, her concentration slipping as the first symptom of Force overuse manifested.

‘That’s enough, Barriss, you did good. Well done.’

She felt Ahsoka break the Shield technique, just as the tank hit the brakes and came to a stop.

Her attention was immediately turned inward as she opened her eyes back in the aft cockpit.

The mandos were now back to firing the slugthrowers but Barriss could only do one thing at the moment - sit down on the floor and focus on regaining her internal equilibrium and slowly easing the flow of the Force.

She could just imagine her own Darkness gloating over her current weakness.

I’m not weak, she thought firmly. Anyone using an unfamiliar technique like that would be thrown off. Her mind marveled somewhat at it again. It was ingenious and she could imagine holding that shield around her body with little problem for long enough to stop anyone trying to use slugs or other slower attacks, such as gas or fire.

The flow of the Force began to taper off and she carefully managed to return it to a healthy normality. She would have to be careful for the next few days, nothing strenuous and with regard to the current battle she would be down to only her lightsaber and related internal techniques.

A few deep breaths and she opened her eyes in time to hear the flex launcher firing another volley.

“Barriss? Good. You’re back. Are you feeling up to some blade work?”

The concussion of the defensive cluster munitions blowing up thundered against the tank.

“Yes.”

She carefully stood and brought her lightsaber to hand. It’s comforting presence and strength in the Force soothing and calming her further.

“Get ready at the aft exterior hatch,” Ahsoka instructed.

The mandos stopped firing their slugthrowers at this point, accepting a final reload from the troopers and hurried out of the cockpit.

Barriss followed in their wake and found herself at the back of a line as the mandos also awaited a signal to leave.

Through the Force and conventional coms, Ahsoka said one word.

“Go!”

The hatch was pushed open, allowing the ever present rain to shower into the tank. 

The mandos climbed out as quickly as possible and Barriss heard their jetpacks firing as they went airborne immediately.

Then it was her turn, she used the small ladder and stepped onto the upper hull of the tank, igniting her green blade immediately.

A few running steps forward brought her to the edge and without pause she jumped.

Before she could even think about it, she used the Force to slow her fall and to her amazement saw that she had no problem. Her internal equilibrium was normal and that early sign of Force exhaustion wasn’t present at all.

Could this be the bota’s true effects? She thought as her feet touched down and she sprinted forward towards cover.

The tank’s driving had clearly not been just random before Ahsoka had ordered it to stop. It had been making a large circle, between the massive wheels and the munitions exploding it had churned up an artificial circular embankment in marshland. The mandos were now spread out and firing upon the remaining enemy that was slowly making their way towards them.

She sensed that the droid remnant, which numbered just under 130 droids were split into two groups of seventy and sixty respectively and were trying to catch their impromptu defensive position in a slow pincer that would eventually encircle and overrun their position. Then there was also the matter of the threat of B1’s using their thermal detonators.

For the longest time she hardly considered those droids a threat except in large numbers. Now they were definitely more dangerous than B2s! She had never imagined that their programming would accept orders that blatantly used them as a disposable munition on two legs.

“Barriss, I need you to join the south-eastern defense. I will go to the north-west. Remember your blade adjustment.”

“On my way, Ahsoka.”

She wanted to object that Ahsoka was sending her to the side that would face the least droids, but there was no arguing at this point.

Barriss ran around the tank, the wet mud splashing with every footfall around her.

Enemy fire was already sparking and thudding into the upper portions of the thirty meter high tank.

She joined six mandos and five troopers crouched at the mud embankment, just in time to witness them hefting their weapons and starting to fire over the edge of their cover.

“B1! B1! Kill it!”

Their fire shifted with amazing coordination and reduced a detonator wielding B1 to scrap metal.

“Incoming!”

Another B1 had thrown his grenade and Barriss didn’t hesitate in reaching out with the Force and slapping it back at the droid who had thrown it.

The overpressure from the magnified explosion rattled her lungs even behind cover, and it sent the B1 and 2s flying apart from the epicenter.

The Separatist commander seemed to finally decide that he was decimating his own troops more with Jedi around than achieving anything else. The B2s formed a focused skirmish line, with the B1s using them as cover, achieving a volume of fire that kept the defenders suppressed.

Barriss’ own sense of tactics could see what was coming next or was that Ahsoka’s Battle Meditation?

The ranges were closing and in a last ditch effort, the clones handed out droid poppers which they threw overhead to land in the droid formation.

Seven droids fell to the energy discharges, but it did little to stop the bulk of the formation.

“Get back! Give me space!” Barriss ordered.

The mandos and clones quickly obeyed, rolling out of the way and heading down the embankment.

They spread out, reloading their weapons as they went and fell prone, aiming their weapons upward, awaiting the droids who would have to crest over the obstacle and present themselves easy targets.

Barriss lifted her lightsaber, bringing the hilt to her face, the blade stabbing upward and hissing as each drop of rain flash boiled with steam.

She placed her thumb at the appropriate spot and fell into a Soresu stance. The tip of the blade and her left hand now pointing where the enemy would appear.

The instant she saw the first hint of a droid head appearing over the crest of the embankment, she flicked her thumb.

Her blade, which ordinarily was set at a length of 85cm, extended itself to the maximum length it could handle whilst still retaining its cutting power, just under two meters.

She ducked and twirled the blade in a classic overhead right to left cut.

Three B1s lost their heads and a single B2 was shortened significantly with a single swipe.

Her allies opened fire as well, their accurate slugs also hitting home and killing more droids.

They toppled backward falling into their brethren and slowed them down further, in some cases even causing a snowball effect and upsetting the balance of an entire droid squad, causing them to tumble down the slope.

“Poppers!” shouted one of the clones.

Ten droid poppers were hurled into the air as Barriss swung her lengthened blade again, managing to fell six droids with a single swing.

The poppers fell and burst into clouds of EM energy, catching and shorting out seven droids.

On and on it went.

The droids tried shifting their primary angle of attack but Barriss and the men behind her were always there.

The B1s desperately tried to throw more grenades whilst B2s simultaneously rushed over the crest.

Barriss sent them flying back whilst cleaving three B2’s in half before they could even bring their own guns to bear.

If only all battles could be like this, she thought briefly, as she cleaved off the heads of another cresting line of B1s as their own thermal detonators exploded with a thunderous roar in the rear of their advancing lines.

There were very few left now on this side and they kept coming. Any organic soldier would have fled at this point or surrendered, but the droids would fight to the last unit.

The tank’s flex launchers above her opened again, now reloaded and they belched out a full volley of rockets into the air.

Another thunderous series of detonations that encircled the entire tank beyond their cover heralded the death of the last droids.

The defense of Rimsoo 7 was over.

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I was found in the commander’s dome of the tank by Barriss.

It was the only place for a bit of privacy and as such was the only place I could afford to practically collapse after the mental effort of Battle Meditation, fighting a battle and holding the Force Shield for so long over the tank.

It had only been possible at all with a combined effort between the two of us, with me directing the technique whilst both of us provided the power. That she was standing over me looking in concern at my condition was just another bit of proof of the bota plant’s effectiveness. Even entertaining the thought of standing up right now was not on the cards for me. It had been all I could do to make it back into the tank without passing out.

“By the stars, Ahsoka! Are you alright?” Barriss scoffed at herself in annoyance. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question.”  

She knelt next to me and placed both her hands on my shoulders. I grabbed her hands to stop her, knowing she intended to try to ease my exhaustion.

“No, Barriss. No shortcuts. I must pay this price.”

 “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Right now, I’m not your friend, but your patient and I’m refusing your treatment,” I retorted, pushing her arms away. I was tired to the bone and she could’ve forced the issue, but I had said the exact right words that would stop her.

I had developed that Shield with Anakin and Obi-Wan in Mortis and I knew it would be an entirely different kettle of fish to use in the normal universe, but I hadn’t expected its cost to ramp up that badly. It was all well and good for Yoda to prattle on about the difference only being in the mind. You didn’t channel the Force like this without consequences and I had taken them mostly on myself as I didn’t want Barriss to suffer for my choices.

“Are you sure about this, Ahsy?”

I groaned as she used her own abominable nickname for me, it served me right I suppose.

I let my arms drop into my lap, “Yes, now do me a favor and get this helmet off, please. Yes, twist that way…”

She pulled off the helmet with a slight hiss of equalizing air pressure and I twitched as she touched and carefully threaded my lekku out of it. Her palm rested briefly on my right cheek as she checked my temperature.

“You’ve got a slight fever.”

“Feels like it,” I sighed and rested my head back against the uncomfortable durasteel cabin.

“What was that technique, Ahsoka?”

“You saw and felt what it does,” I replied, my eyelids really felt heavy at the moment.

“Yes, but where does it come from? Is this something Knight Skywalker or Master Kenobi taught you?”

“We had a lot of time to kill when we were trapped, Barriss. Time to think, plan, reflect and even come up with a number of solutions to problems we’ve experienced in the war so far. The Shield is meant to protect a Jedi against multiple attackers from any possible direction, no prescience needed or any lightsaber.”

“But it clearly does more,” she pointed out.

I nodded, “It also amplifies anything the Jedi sends outward. Think of what would happen should you throw sand, rock, anything you can get your hands on whilst holding the Shield around you.”

“Instant slugthrowers shooting in all directions.”

I nodded, “We are always outnumbered in this war, Barriss. As much as we hope for things to never deteriorate to that point, we must be prepared for it. Now you know and can teach the others here when the time comes.”

She frowned in confusion, “Why me? Why not bring this to the Council?”

“Master Kenobi knows already obviously, but we must be careful Barriss. Our enemies have eyes and ears in the Temple.”

“What?!” she exclaimed with alarm, standing up and gazing at me with wide eyes.

“Yes, it’s true,” I said with simple honesty, something she immediately picked up on. “Only a select number of masters know and now, so do you.”

She was clearly struggling with the concept and her internal panic was somewhat palpable.

“Why tell me? And how do you know anyway if this is so secret?”

I chuckled blearily, “You’re as far from the Temple as it’s possible to be, Barriss. By the time you return, you’ll have internalized and come to terms with the truth. You’ll also be armed with the tools to keep this secret.”

“I don’t understand, what tools?”

“You will soon understand. As for how I know, well, that’s something that I won’t be able to explain right now. I need a very long nap and time. When I pass out, carry me to the internal sickbay and take command. Get us back to the Rimsoo. Keep an eye on Merit. M8 will help-”

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“Oh, Ahsoka,” she sighed in annoyance, looking down at her unconscious friend.

Passing out in the middle of a sentence was not good at all.

Barriss placed her fingers to find her friend’s neck and checked the pulse there. It was steady and relatively slow, but not in dangerous territory.

“M8, you there?”

“I’m always here, Padawan Offee,” the droid intellect chirped from Ahsoka’s helmet in that pleasant slightly youthful female voice.

A notion occurred to her at this point, “Please, call me Barriss. Can you move the armor you’re part of?”

“Of course I can, Barriss. I am a power armor, after all.”

“Interesting. Quarters are a bit tight in this dome, would you be able to carry Ahsoka at least down the ladder?”

“That is a good idea, Barriss. I’m rather surprised the mistress didn’t inform you of the possibility. Then again, she’s not at her best at the moment is she?”

“No,” Barriss said with slight wonder, as M8 began moving. The whining of electric motivators, typical of humanoid droids reached her ears as M8, with an unconscious Ahsoka inside the armor stood up.

She winced as Ahsoka’s head lolled limply to once side with the movement and she rushed forward to stabilize her neck.

“Barriss, might I suggest you put the helmet on again, it will support the mistress’ neck.”

It was rather difficult and M8 had to clarify a few things, such as how Ahsoka’s lekku was supposed to fit inside. She winced as she was forced to delicately grab a handful and thread it into the rather ingenious internal supports.

“There we go, all set, Barriss,” said M8 cheerily. 

She shook her head at the eeriness. To her eyes Ahsoka was now standing in a perfectly normal manner and M8 was doing a very good job at imitating that there was a conscious person inside. It was only her other senses through the Force that told the truth.

She pulled open the hatch and climbed down, leading the way through the cramped central corridor of the tank, before finding the next hatch that would let them climb down directly into the small sickbay.

The resident 2-1B medical droid immediately activated itself upon detecting lifesigns and stepped out of its recharge alcove.

“What is the nature of the emergency?” it droned in a flat monotone.

“No emergency, just need you to keep Commander Tano under observation. M8 go ahead and lie down on the bed.”

There were only four biobeds in the cramped bay and M8 simply picked the closest one to lie down on.

The med droid stepped over and played its scanners over Ahsoka's form.

“Warning low heart rate-”

“She’s a Jedi, that’s normal.”

“Understood, calibrating medical scans.”

“What’s going on?”

Barriss turned around to see the senior mando in charge and Ahsoka’s apparent bodyguard, Ursa Wren climbing down into the sickbay. Then as if that wasn’t enough, Chewbacca also climbed down and roared with alarm at seeing his life debt holder flat on her back.

“Easy, easy,” Barriss waved her hands frantically. “She exhausted herself keeping this tank from being summarily blown up by those crazy B1s.”

Wren’s eyes grew wide with disbelief at first then shook her head with exasperation, “I thought it strange that suddenly the Juggernaut had a deflector shield, but if it was her… then I can only say that’s another one I owe her, which I have to add to the very long list. By the Beskar, this battle will go down in the history books of Clan Vizsla and Mandalore. Curse the extenuating circumstances, 823 war droids defeated by a single squadron of Mandalorian warriors, ten clones, a wookiee, two Jedi and a Juggernaut tank.”

The wookiee stomped over to the bed and took off his helmet, before grunting and growling in Shyriiwook.

“Don’t worry, Chewie,” M8 said with very well-simulated peppiness. “I’m monitoring her vitals and will call the med droid the instant anything looks to be going wrong. Which it shouldn’t, she’s just in a deep meditative sleep.”

Wren gave Barriss an evaluating look. “She put you in charge, didn’t she?”

“How did you know?”

“I know my manda’lor,” Wren said sternly. “What was her last command?”

“Return to the Rimsoo, we have a spy and saboteur there that needs watching.” 

The voice of Lieutenant Dozer was piped into the sickbay.

“Commander Tano to the command center, Commander Tano to the command center.”

“What now?” Barriss asked with annoyance and rushed for the ladder.

When she and Wren rushed through the thick hatch that protected the nerve center of the tank, it was to find Dozer and his crew already at their stations.

“Commander Tano is in sickbay and has given me command,” Barriss said immediately.

The clones looked at each other and nodded. “Understood, ma’am. We’re being hailed on the com by Colonel Karred Hon. He wants to know our status.”

“Tell him we’re operational and on our way back to the Rimsoo. All enemy units defeated. Once you’ve done that, get us back there as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dozer put on a headset and began having a one sided conversation with the colonel. However, it was clear that it wasn’t enough to satisfy the commander of Rimsoo 7. “Sir… yes sir, we’re en route… I under- … Yes sir. Sorry, ma’am. He wants to speak to Commander Tano.”

Barriss had to suppress a surge of irritation. “Give me the headset.” Dozer handed it over and after adjusting it on her head, she cleared her throat. “This is Padawan Offee, temporarily in charge of Tank A634. Commander Tano is indisposed in our sickbay, colonel.”

“Healer Offee? Oh, well. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope it’s not too serious.” Hon was a decent officer, if a little pompous and self-absorbed, as with most core world military officers that were being fast tracked through to front line positions after retraining courses.

“No, she’s expected to make a full recovery. How can I help you?”

“You can start by explaining what we saw on our sensors for one. We were halfway through getting the Rimsoo packed up when my tech called me to the command center. Now we can postpone the evacuation indefinitely.”

“Colonel, a debrief like that is best done in person.”

“I must insist, Healer Offee. Admiral Bleyd is demanding a report from me, especially given the accident we just suffered.”

“Accident?” Barriss asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Our transport ship must’ve been used on one run too many. It was destroyed as it went through one of those blasted spore clouds. Months of bota just went up in smoke!”

“Well, colonel, I must insist on only speaking to you in person. Barriss out.” She ripped off the headset. “Dozer, get us back there, max possible speed and turn the radio off.”

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When the tank finally stopped back at the organized chaos of Rimsoo 7 unpacking itself again, it was to be met by a full squad of clone troopers with Colonel Hon at the lead.

Barriss only had to take one look at the situation, combined with the agitated flow of the Force, to see and sense that something was very wrong.

She paused at the top of the embarkation ramp, gave a glance to Wren and the two mandos at her side. They were all tense as if they too sensed something wrong on an instinctual level.

“Dozer,” she carefully said, making sure her words only reached the tank commander standing by her left side. “Stay on board, close the ramp behind us. Radio remains off and only accept orders from me. Regulation 17-4. That is an order.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave a last significant look at Wren before setting off.

“Colonel Hon,” Barriss greeted when they neared the man, who was standing rod stiff and very anxious.

“Healer Offee,” he said and his eyes widened as the tank’s ramp retracted. “What are you doing?”

“Doing Colonel? Oh, there’s nothing to unload or load so why bother keeping the ramp down. All this extra oxygen and rain isn’t good for the interior systems after all,” she said nonchalantly.

“I’m sorry to do this, Healer, but I’ve been ordered to take Commander Tano into custody.”

Barriss felt a surge of anger and had to work hard not to give in to the dark impulse to strangle this pompous fool! Arrest Ahsoka? As if!

“On what charge?” she retorted.

“Violating the admiral’s orders on acceptable use of ordnance on the surface of Drongar.”

“And just how would he know so quickly, colonel? Was he keeping a direct sensor watch on us from orbit? Did you relay the Rimsoo’s sensor readings to him?” She barraged the poor man with questions, all the while carefully sensing his every reaction. That last question hit close to the truth.

Hon’s dark eyes reflected his discomfort and it was clear he didn’t agree with the order either. He tried to keep his formal stance, but the rain finally got to him and he relaxed a bit to rub the water from his bald head.

“Look, Offee, all of you and Commander Tano saved my command. It was looking like we’d not make it. Then you guys appeared seemingly out of nowhere and somehow smashed over eight hundred droids with a single Juggernaut Tank. Then the transport ship was lost and it naturally garnered the admiral’s attention after I reported it. He demanded all sensor logs to confirm if it was an accident. That included the logs of your battle.”

“And in his mind, the only way a single Juggernaut can take out so many droids was if it used all the firepower available to it,” Barriss concluded. “The sensors would’ve detected multiple clustered explosions and the only logical deduction was that the Juggernaut had fired its flex launchers.”

"Which is in violation of the admiral’s prohibition and against the conduct of the war on Drognar. The Separatists will now have free reign to escalate in their engagements with us. We can only be thankful this happened in the wet marshlands.”

“It seems the admiral is being rather selective in his interpretation of those sensor logs,” Barriss frowned severely at the colonel. “I wonder what the logs of Tank A364 will show when it’s downloaded? What will the visual sensors that are in every mandalorian’s helmet reveal? Not to mention Commander Tano’s own armor, which is even more capable.”

“That determination is not under my purview and if there’s been any mistake, it will surely help justify Commander Tano’s actions,” Hon said, regaining some of his formality. “It doesn’t change my orders.”

“She’s currently unconscious in the tank’s sickbay and will remain there, colonel. As she is currently my patient, it would be disastrous to move her in her current condition.” For anyone else, she thought. Chewbacca would swiftly make anyone regret the attempt to move Ahsoka. “You can keep a guard on the tank, she’s not going anywhere and you can report to the admiral that she’s safely in custody.”

Hon frowned for a moment before a small smile quirked his lips. “Yes, I see. Thank you for your cooperation, Padawan Offee.”

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Later the same day, Barriss found herself in Colonel Hon’s office in Rimsoo 7.

The small space was barely nine square meters and was currently in a bit of a shamble as the module it was part of had only recently been extended outward from the Rimsoo’s main superstructure again. The small desk was strewn with datapads and flimsiplast that had fallen out of their binders, the walls were bare and no other furniture was evident. The main terminal was the only thing functional in the entire space, as it was needed for the holocom system to be working.

Standing next to her was the owner of the office and they were both facing the full body holograms of Admirals Bleyd and Yularen. 

Bleyd looked to be in a towering temper, his bronze sakiyan face flushed and his eyes flaring, spitting figurative blaster bolts at Barriss and Hon.

“This has the potential to ruin everything! Everything we’ve worked for on this blasted world! I’ve just gotten off the com with Commander Plaith and his finger is hovering over the button that would launch his Hyena bombers! The only thing that stopped it was my agreement to cede control over three entire bota fields!”

Barriss let the admiral vent, the sakiyan had balled his fists and his arms looked as if he wanted to punch something. He then visibly composed himself, tugging on his gray uniform to return it to his typical standards of perfection.  

“When will Commander Tano be fit to travel? I want her in my brig on board the Furor as soon as possible.”

“The admiral is unaware of the ordeal the commander suffered protecting the tank we were in,” Barriss said calmly. “She and myself effectively, through the Force, created the equivalent of a deflector shield around it. The strain and backlash of such an action she took upon herself. It could take anywhere from a day to even three days before she can safely emerge from the protective coma she induced in herself.”

“Preposterous,” Bleyd sneered. “You would have me believe a Jedi is capable of protecting a fifty meter long tank from enemy fire, just using their mind?”

“What you believe admiral is irrelevant, when we have the tank’s visual data logs showing it happening,” Barriss retorted dryly. “Those same logs also show that it was the local Separatist commander who then first began using his B1 droids to run into the tank whilst setting off full strength thermal detonators. Trying to deplete what he saw as a deflector shield around the tank.”

She tapped her own comlink which began beaming a montage of those recordings that M8 had wonderfully put together.

Admiral Yularen turned to his fellow admiral, his mustache twitching with repressed anger. “So Bleyd, does it say anything in your little agreement with Plaith that he may use thermal detonators?”

Bleyd visibly flushed again, his anger spiking, “All high explosive weapons are prohibited!”

“Well, then we have a clear case of the Separatists breaking that agreement first, then in the face of her command being overwhelmed, Commander Tano escalated in proportion,” Yularen declared.

“She shouldn't have been there in the first place,” Bleyd ground out, glaring at Yularen.

“Is the admiral suggesting that Commander Tano should’ve been derelict in her duty to protect GAR assets when she identifies a clear danger to them?” Yularen asked mildly.

“No, of course not.”

“Good. You would do well to remember Bleyd that she and I are here under the direct order of the Jedi Council and GAR High Command. If in her opinion, the situation on Drognar becomes unsustainable, then she has the authority to order the evacuation of the entire planet.”

Barriss had to greatly resist the urge to smirk as she sensed Bleyd squirm under pressure. If that happened the entire cozy arrangement he had out here would vanish into a black hole and all his actions and inaction would come under close scrutiny. That the Jedi he had just tried to throw into his brig had that power, was not something he had ever thought possible.

“I was not aware those were your orders.”

“They were only contingency orders and as such you didn’t need to know. Now, while Commander Tano may have disobeyed the letter of your specific orders, she acted in the interests of preserving her command, only escalating when the enemy did. If you still insist on pursuing these charges, I will remind you that she would be brought before a Jedi tribunal, not a GAR military court. Whereupon the truth of your actions would swiftly be determined and she’d at the worst get a slap on the wrist.”

Bleyd’s mouth twisted, “Very well. Charges withdrawn, you can return your troops to normal duty, colonel. Bleyd out.”

The admiral’s holo faded away.

“Blasted fool,” Yularen muttered. “Padawan Offee, please tell me you and Commander Tano found something down there that can help me relieve this sorry excuse for an officer of his command.”

“Unfortunately we don’t, admiral,” Barriss moved her hands to her sides and made a subtle hand signal she hoped the man knew.

He made no visible countersignal, “I see. We will just soldier on then. Yularen out.”

His holo vanished.

Barriss felt like hitting something in frustration.

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“Wake…!”

“Wake up… wake up, Chewbacca! Help!”

Chewbacca blinked his eyes open and the scene he was greeted with sent his heart racing and mind instantly coming awake.

He saw Ahsoka wrestling against the 2-1B medical droid. No, he corrected himself, he had heard M8’s voice and she was wrestling the droid, whilst Ahsoka was still inside the armor and unconscious. The 2-1B had one of its arms configured with a long syringe, whilst the usual right claw was holding a short range surgical laser that was trying to stab right through the weaker joints in the armor.

It should’ve been no contest in any normal situation, but a 2-1B had to be able to move heavy patients and M8 was fighting against the uncooperative mass of her own mistress.

He gave a roar of challenge, leaping from the seat he had been sleeping in and slammed his right palm onto the head of the 2-1B, whilst grabbing the limb that held the surgical laser.

A quick twist of his arms and a flex of strength sent the medical droid flying, only to crash against the wall of the small sickbay.

The instant it was prone and on the floor, M8 lunged and pounced down on it, stabbing a logic probe into the medical droid with an accuracy only achievable by a computer.

“Thank you, Chewbacca.”

“What’s going on?!” he growled.

“That pathetic meatbag Merit decided that the opportunity to kill an unconscious Jedi was too good to pass up,” she explained with anger. “He breached the tank’s systems from an exterior maintenance port and sabotaged the 2-1B.”

He felt anger roar through every fiber of his being.

“Where is that cowardly madclaw?!”

“Currently sneaking away from the tank and back into the Rimsoo. I will guide you over the comlink. Chewbacca, I know it will be hard… but we need him alive.”

“Oh he will live,” Chewbacca growled. “And will regret every second of it.”

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A/N: Oh dear, poor Merit. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Have a great weekend and stay awesome.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 26

She fought her first instinct to pinch space and try to leverage every bit of her training into wringing Escort’s neck.

Missy made one step forward but managed to stop herself as rationality and training crashed down onto her instincts.

“Everyone stand down now!” Armsmaster’s voice thundered across the common room and resounded almost painfully in Missy’s ears. She barely registered that it was a new feature of the hero’s armor that distorted his voice into a volume and range that was thoroughly unpleasant and broke her concentration.

The other Wards in the room were also halted in variations of springing into action, but Armsmaster had neatly achieved his goal.

“Sir?” Aegis asked as he touched down from his halted flying charge towards Escort. Clockblocker sighed in relief and lowered his hands, his head shifting to the senior hero in the room, but Missy would’ve bet a month’s pay that his eyes were still locked on their nude visitor behind his featureless mask.

“A full debriefing will take place later, but you were all involved in a containment operation for the canine that you had to remain ignorant about. I’ll let Escort explain briefly in the meantime.”

“Sorry about us meeting like this,” Escort shook her head to let her hair fall back over her face properly. “Anyway, I was asked to consult on Buddy by Armsmaster and the Protectorate, due to the difficulties most Thinkers are currently having with the Brockton Bay area.”

“Really?” Missy couldn’t help but ask, directing the question to her superior.

“Details will be in the debrief, but it’s a phenomenon that’s only recently been quantified and declassified to a level for you to be informed about,” Armsmaster confirmed.

“Buddy, like the Tree and Train, is from an extra-universal source.”

“What?!” Dennis blurted. “You’re telling me we’re being invaded by Tinker creations from another Earth?”

Escort tilted her head, seemingly considering her answer for a few moments, “That is one way to put it, Clock. Yes.”

“That is not in their clearance level, Escort,” Armsmaster objected with annoyance.

“It’s not enough to frame this as just the work of a Tinker group from somewhere on Earth Bet, which would be an outright lie. If our city is going to be the dumping ground for these things, everyone needs to be in the right mindset for dealing with the potential threat an extra-universal anomaly poses. To do otherwise would be disastrous and could result in the extinction of all life on this planet.”

Escort’s voice snapped like a whip as she gave that last pronouncement, her head turning to look at each of them in the room.

Armsmaster hooked his halberd onto his armor’s back. Missy saw his lips were practically nonexistent and his whole countenance turned equally grim. He was surprised as well by the heroine’s pronouncement.

“Whoever or whatever is behind this, has sent more such anomalies into Brockton Bay, most of which me and my organization have already dealt with behind the scenes quietly. Those you know about are just those which are too big or overt to quietly contain and deal with.”

“What organization?” Aegis asked curiously.     

“It’ll be in the brief,” Armsmaster answered shortly.

“We are called Fortress. Now, Buddy himself is such an anomaly.” Escort folded her arms - Dennis coughed, trying to nonchalantly adjust his costume - and she stared down at the pile of ashes standing roughly a foot high off the floor.

She then flicked the fingers of her right hand toward it and said sternly, “Stop being a lazy boy. Stand.”

Missy felt her brain hiccup and imagined that somewhere the record screeching sound effect was probably playing.

Her ears heard the annoyed yelp of what was clearly a puppy before the pile of ashes seemed to puff and burst into a cloud.

Rising out of the ashes of what had been Buddy, was now a puppy that looked to be an entirely different breed of dog. Missy couldn’t recognize it, but it had quite dark fur with a stout build. She imagined it would eventually grow to a large size. It tickled recognition somewhere in her mind that she had seen the breed before but it was difficult to recognize as a puppy.

The puppy trotted forward a bit before giving a full body shake as best it could to get rid of the ashes.

“Sit,” Escort ordered sternly again, her tone firm but with a hint of kindness.

The puppy yelped a bark before obeying and looking up at her expectantly.

The heroine smiled and lowered herself to one knee, giving the puppy scratches around the ears which he thoroughly enjoyed and started licking her hands affectionately.

“You’re welcome, Buddy. It was a nasty thing that was done to you. It won’t happen again while you’re on this Earth.” Buddy yelped and hopped with his front two legs eagerly. “Oh, all right.”

Escort picked him up and cradled the puppy, before he began licking her face and yapping.

“Yes, yes, enough of that,” she eventually said, only tolerating it so much, pushing Buddy’s head away and settling him down with scratches on the back of his head.

Escort looked up at the stupefied faces around her and shook her head as if she couldn’t believe they were reacting like this. As if seeing a puppy arise out of the ashes of a dead dog wasn’t something all that much to write home about.

“Did I just see a dog die and another be reborn from its ashes?” Dennis said faintly.

“You did, Clock,” Aegis’s jaw was almost permanently slacked as he stared at the spectacle before him.

“Oh good, I didn’t walk into the Twilight Zone then.”

"Surprised you know that show, Clockblocker,” Escort chuckled. “Did you manage to record the event, Armsmaster?”

The hero only nodded.

Missy felt herself unfreeze, as reason managed to claw back into her mind from where it had retreated. “What the fuck! That almost looks like what Oni Lee does!”

“Yes, but more limited. Buddy can’t make rapid degenerating clones of himself at will. Think of him as a mythical phoenix. He’ll live a full lifetime or if he’s killed, die, then spontaneously combust and be reborn from the ashes as a different breed of dog that’s more suited to escape or combat the method that was used to kill him.”

“That’s nuts but freaking awesome,” Dennis said with awe.

“He’s also much more friendly towards you,” Aegis observed.

“He had a behavioral modification chip in his brain that was selectively giving him certain orders and impulses he had to obey,” Escort explained.

Missy felt repulsed, “Hey, you mean that his latching onto me, his other behavior and everything was programmed into him by the freaks that put it there?”

“Only some of his behavior,” Escort insisted. “You can say he was trained, then programmed to sniff out and hunt me down. Whether or not it was a freak coincidence that he imprinted first onto you, Vista, I don’t know.”

“Hang on,” her brain whirled with the implications. “You’re saying some extra-universal bunch of asshole Tinkers sent Buddy to locate you? Why?” 

“Fortress and I, are not exactly making it easy for them to use the city as a petri dish,” she said grimly. “I just hope we killed Buddy fast enough so they got as little data as possible. The chip wouldn’t survive his spontaneous combustion, which was the fastest way of freeing him. You can see he’s intelligent enough to basically understand the gist of the situation he was in.”

Buddy yapped again and then stared at the Wards in turn with a happy dog grin, then raised a paw towards Vista.

“Okay, but you know she can’t let you stay with her?” Escort asked suddenly of the dog. Another yelp was the answer. “Fine.” 

The heroine put Buddy down again and he blurred with speed.

Missy jumped as the puppy was now at her feet and looking at her with his best adorable expression.

“Armsmaster, Master Stranger alert,” she complained with a groan and knelt down to pick up the dog. Now Missy was treated to an affectionate tongue licking on her cheeks and jaw.

“Noted,” the senior hero said, his mouth actually twitching with amusement.

“So was this imprinting thing the chip as well?”

“Yes, but it was making use of his training and conditioning. Which was generally to consider the first human he saw after resurrection as the leader of his pack and provider.”

“Which is now you,” Missy said pointedly, trying not to be annoyed. She had just gotten used to the idea of having Buddy as a constant companion and pet.

“Unfortunately Vista, there was no way the Protectorate was going to let you keep an extra-universal dog as a pet.”

“Even if it was allowed, you would also have been off the patrol schedule for weeks,” Armsmaster confirmed. “PRT Image Relations and the Youth Guard would’ve needed to give the go ahead. Not to mention it wouldn’t take long for the public to become aware of a paracanine. Animals getting powers is a concept that will be very frightening to some people.”

“A whole bus of children and Mr. Douglas saw Buddy’s Mover powers,” Missy had to point out. “Can’t exactly enforce NDAs on middle schoolers.”

“We realize that, which is why we are encouraging the idea that Buddy was just a parahuman Changer. With Escort and Fortress taking custody of him and as he’s now a different breed of puppy that’ll take years to grow, it’ll be long enough for rumors of a paracanine to die down,” he explained.

Missy looked down at the pup in her arms, who looked up expectantly. “You better make it up to me one day for my time in the Dunk Tank.” Buddy barked once with tongue lolling out happily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She leaned down reluctantly and deposited the puppy on the floor.

Buddy blurred and was now lazily stretched out over Escort’s left shoulder.

Escort rolled her eyes, easily enduring the paws scrabbling at her skin before she used her left arm to support the dog’s hindquarters on his new perch. “Fine, we’ll be going soon.”

“Can you actually communicate with him? You’re not just messing with us?” Missy just had to know.

“Buddy is still a dog at the end of the day, but he’s in the upper percentile of dog smarts with very good training under his paws. My Thinker power lets me cheat in understanding him.”

“Can- Can you bring him to visit in the future, please?” Missy hated that she sounded so childish at that moment.

Escort hefted her iron staff in her right hand and nodded, “I will do so. Armsmaster, is there anything else you need from me?”

“Your report was thorough, but I’ll be in touch if we need any further clarifications. Thank you.”

“Be seeing you around, Wards,” Escort nodded at each of them in turn, before she and Buddy vanished with a slightly red gaseous hue.

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There was a knock on the door to the office.

I looked up from the smart tablet that held Fortress’ version of the file on Anomaly 10 aka, Buddy and considered whether to get up or not, or to stop whoever was on the other side from coming in.

I swept outward with my mind web and found the very alien mental structure that represented Henry the sentient statue.

“Mistress? Should I leave?”

I looked down at Corporal Rowan James, my current FTF guard, whose hands were frozen with uncertainty and fondling my breasts.

We were both on a small cot I had brought into my shiny new office that was a space neighboring Henry’s directorial office. 

The place was much more spartan as I had yet to find anything to actually mount on the walls and the massive bookshelf dominating the rear wall was only filled with my GED books and a number of random novels I had bought. The center of the room was dominated by a modern office desk with a state of the art PC with multiple monitors and three chairs, one for myself and two visitor chairs.

I considered James’ aura for a moment… he still had about four minutes in him and he had yet to experience any release. The thought of just letting that go when he was in me and ready felt like absolute anathema.

Fuck my instincts and powers are really screwing my head, I internally winced at the double meaning in my thoughts.

I really needed this though. Dealing with the Protectorate had been a chore of paperwork as we had gone through the process of officially registering Fortress as having a corporate hero team attached to the construction management company. Then on top of that dealing with the planning, briefings and research on the Buddy situation. The final cherry on the shit cake was keeping an eye on Lung and making touch ups on his hypnotism as he went through a typical day. 

“Bit busy, Henry! Give me five minutes!” 

My hips flexed and I began bouncing and twirling my hips.

My head lolled backward and I gazed up into the ceiling as the pleasure built and built. The wet rapid slaps of flesh on flesh echoing somewhat in the office.

James kneaded my breasts and groaned throatily.

He sat up abruptly, throwing his arms around my back and turned us over.

My legs locked automatically around his waist as he began pounding into me with rapid abandon.

His beautifully sculpted pecs squished my breasts pleasantly as I easily bore his partial weight.

Our breathing became rapid as both of us tried our best to fight to prolong the pleasure, yet equally sought out the eventual release.

His blue eyes locked onto mine with an intense stare, seeking permission.

I merely nodded and his lips locked on mine for an equally intense kiss, our tongues beginning a delightful duel.

Air hissed through our noses to keep the fires of passion going.

James lost the battle first, his entire body stiffening then his hips twitched forward in rapid bursts as he climaxed in me.

I greedily pulled in the energy, my body instinctively doing its thing with the physical products of our union.

That sensation was rapidly pushing me to my tipping point and the final flex of my inner core pushed me over.

My juices blasted outward, the fluids compressed and seeking escape from between our closely entwined bodies.

My entire body twitched in a spasm of absolute pleasure, I couldn’t even use my voice to groan.

James broke the kiss breathing hard, his movement was enough to stimulate my enormously sensitive pussy again.

My body spasmed as I was pushed into a double orgasm and another eruption of fluids practically bathing James’s abdomen now.

My voice finally got some brain capacity to work with again and I moaned an aria of pleasure as the orgasm rocked through my twitching body.

James pushed my sweaty hair out of my face and delivered small kisses to my cheeks and neck.

Of all the lovers I had taken from among the FTF, he was by far the most tender and caring. His closely shaved dark blonde hair glistened with sweat in the overhead light as he regarded me with his usual naked wonder in the aftermath.

He would make some future woman very happy as a lover and husband, even though my inner heart immediately rebelled at the thought and demanded he remain with me forever as part of my own collection.

I really wanted to just relax in the post-coital bliss for a while longer but work was calling and I couldn’t make Henry wait outside forever.

My legs and arms opened, but James decided to give me a soul searing kiss in thanks before he took the opportunity to get up.

His body glistened gloriously in the office lighting and he put on his gun belt with a contented smile.

Then he gave me a dimpled wink.

My eyes widened in astonishment as he headed to the door, not making use of the nearby towel to dry himself from my fluids. From his aura, I could tell he was wearing it, considering it almost a badge of honor.

Only when he tapped his hand on the access control sensor to open the door, did I gather my wits and get up from the bed.   

The doors slid open and Henry stood aside for James to come through and take up his post outside.

The sentient statue knee-walked into my office and paused.

“Sorry about this, Henry, but I’ve been somewhat neglecting myself this past week and it couldn’t wait, as I’m risking going full SCP nympho. Please come in,” I said as I was using the towel to dry myself off. 

“I see,” he nodded and moved deeper into the office until he was kneeling in front of my desk and keeping his gaze firmly forward. “Very well, I sent your inbox a file for your perusal while we talk about the matter.”

I dropped the towel and picked up my fallen tablet, to bring up the company internal email. 

Henry had sent me four files, the full dossiers Coil had compiled on the villain catspaw team he had wanted to recruit for his big plan to take over Brockton’s underworld. They had also been recently updated by the sentient statue’s own work.

“After your run in with Rachel Lindt, I took the liberty to look into the other potential catspaws and update their files. Using a combination of Coil’s power and the assets he had already been using to keep these four under a marginal level of surveillance. Mostly using the FTF squad dedicated to the task of specialized covert spying.”

Given that he was Noctis and wouldn’t leave any stone unturned when it came to Coil and his plans, I could understand why he had done it in the first place. He also most likely had an idea he wanted to run by me.

I walked to my wonderfully comfortable office chair and dumped myself in it.

“Okay, let’s start with Rachel,” I swiped to the relevant file.

“Miss Lindt it seems has recently decided that enough was enough with regards to Hookwolf and his illegal dog fighting rings. She raided a lightly guarded Empire location two days ago, freeing all the captive dogs and rather badly mauling the gang members on guard duty with her own empowered dogs. All of them made it to hospital in time and none are expected to die from their injuries.”

“I want to say good, but she’s a lone villainess and if she continues to escalate…” I trailed off, not needing to finish.

“Precisely. Coil’s plan was to keep her reined in by providing just enough money for living expenses, to feed her dogs and provide a location where she could essentially run her own dog shelter. Without that structure she’s bound to eventually end up on a path to encounter a sniper bullet from Victor or Hookwolf murder blending her and her dogs.”

“I take it you have a plan to cut off this likelihood?”

“Yes, it’ll involve releasing the evidence of the circumstances of her Trigger. It’ll be enough to at least get the case reopened and her arrest warrant frozen. Given this crosses state boundaries a federal judge will be required to look at it. Miss Lindt will unlikely be capable of being a Ward given her warped social instincts, so she is a possible recruit for Fortress if we’re so inclined.”

“Coil notes that with her dogs she would be an ideal heavy hitter and they’re large enough to be ridden, providing mobility to her and others,” I read from the file, thinking about the theoretical lineup of capes that Fortress could publicly tout. Myself, Henry and eventually Theo. Shauna didn’t want to be within a million miles of any cape fight. It would also be interesting to see Rachel’s reaction to Buddy… would her power even work on an SCP dog? “Okay, let’s see about getting her on board. Next?”

“Sarah Livsey aka Lisa Wilbourne aka Tattletale,” Henry sighed. “A particularly troublesome cape to surveil given her Thinker power, which Coil rates with a PRT threat factor of 7. Officially the PRT has little information on Tattletale beyond her existence and vague rumors of a villainess who is ‘psychic’. She was keeping a very low profile and limited her activities to theft in order to meet her daily living needs. A few days after the appearance of Anomaly 9, she left for Boston.”

I tapped on the image collection in the file and a few of the surveillance pictures were maximized, including a video of the seventeen year old, freckle-faced girl with dark blonde hair. She was wearing clothing that made her look like any affluent high school senior, boarding a bus and carrying a sling bag over her shoulder.

The only thing odd about her was that she had a haunted thousand yard stare and almost seemed to be moving on autopilot.

“Interesting, I wonder how her power was faring inside the general SCP zone.”

“Given her expression, it is working but what she deduced was enough to inspire her to leave, not that one can really blame her,” Henry chuckled. “She has essentially a line-of-sight clairvoyance, able to extrapolate mass amounts of information from the smallest pieces of data. Given her power, most of the three letter federal agencies would kill to have her services at hand. Hence, why she keeps as low a profile as possible.”

“She's going to drive Accord nuts,” I theorized.

“Given her personality, highly probable. My own analysis indicates she is unlikely to remain a lone operator for long, perhaps joining the strongest villain team that isn’t the Teeth - Blastgerm.”

That awkward name was the team name of the villain duo Blasto and Fume Hood, the former being a strong Biotinker and the latter a powerful, versatile Blaster who could generate and control spheres of gas with varying effects.

The duo controlled a fair slice of the Boston underworld and I could already imagine that increasing with a Thinker 7 on the team.

“So only of concern if we ever have ops which take us there, next is Grue,” I swiped to the next file.

“Brian Laborn. He’s actually been an active villain for almost two years at this point, but he has firmly kept his activities outside the city. Mainly as an enforcer in the underworld for whoever would hire him.”

The photos of him from various sources including those of him in costume, showed a tall dark skinned teenager, but from the way he filled out his clothes showed he was already quite physically mature and muscular - clearly the work of many hours of training in sports or a gym. My instincts immediately perked with interest as I regarded a fine specimen of manhood who would likely only get better with age.

His villain persona and costume was also quite intimidating, motorcycle leathers that hugged his frame nicely and a helmet with a full face visor, a stylized skull painted on it.

Grue’s power was also a wonderful battlefield control mechanism. A Shaker power that created a gaseous ‘darkness’ that emitted from his body rapidly and which he could control very precisely.

The darkness did more than rob people of their sight in the visual spectrum, it muted sounds, radio, radiation and microwaves. When Grue laid down his darkness, which could cover a vast area, everything and everyone inside was effectively helpless. This blindness didn’t extend to Grue, who could see in it and freely walk inside it.

Yet another experiment that occurred to me was to try out my misty form inside this Darkness cloud. Would it slow me down? Would it affect me and trap me? I doubted it could blind my True Sight though.

I could easily imagine now why Grue was a fairly successful independent villain by most standards and had resisted any gang recruitment attempts thus far.

Coil’s approach for snagging Grue into his catspaw team was the typical MO he had used for his mercenaries.

I read through the plan, unable to suppress a grimace.

The bastard was going to target Grue’s family situation. It involved a drug-addict for a mother and getting custody of his younger sister, Aisha and removing the girl from the dysfunctional household. Coil would’ve dangled that prospect in front of the teenage villain like a carrot on a stick, that he would mostly keep out of reach, at least until his takeover of Brockton’s underworld was complete.

Even after custody had been awarded, Grue’s gratitude and financial dependance on Coil would further cement the loyalty.

As for Grue’s personality and disposition, his villainy was purely motivated by gaining the financial independence to aid his sister. He also brought a professionality to his work that even Coil respected. I would need to make an in-person assessment to see for myself. 

“What part of this recruitment plan can we use that would make me feel less scummy about using it?”

Henry chuckled, “Figured you would want this young man. His help would’ve been valuable in containing the effects of the Train. There will undoubtedly be future SCPs that emit their effects through the mediums that his power can dampen. As for recruitment, a proper full time job at Fortress Construction would do a lot to convince Youth Services that young Mr. Laborn would be a far preferable guardian for his younger sister. A rebranding with a new cape persona once he is part of the team and as he has no major felonies or criminal charges, it should be a simple matter to convince the Protectorate that we’ve turned Mr. Laborn into a productive member of society.”

“Okay, put it on the to-do list. Next?”

Henry’s features pinched and his aura now became somewhat worried. “The last member of the catspaws is a situation that if handled incorrectly might bring the attention of the worst Master on the North American continent to Brockton.”

I felt my mood instantly turn darker as I realized who Henry was referring to.

I had resolved with myself that I would respect everyone’s free will as much as possible, only using my hypnotism and Master abilities for good causes and keeping my tummy happy.

Heartbreaker was the exact opposite.

A Canadian villain who literally enslaved people into doing his bidding through emotional control, which only grew in strength the longer you were in proximity to him. Neatly earning him an A-Class threat rating based on that alone. He was the man that gave all Masters a very bad name.

Over twenty years he had built himself a full blown harem, enslaving the best looking women he could find, including a number of celebrities and some of the early capes who’d been sent to apprehend him. By this point, his concubines, followers and capes numbered in the high nineties. Most of the capes were his own children and the whole lot of them lived in a palatial mansion on Montreal’s outskirts.

The PRT and the Canadian Hero Guild left him alone, only enforcing a no-go zone around the mansion. Even Dragon, who would be immune to Heartbreaker, couldn’t attack as the villain was quite fond of using human shields to die for him. He would also threaten to order his thralls to carry out suicide attacks in the event of any serious attempt to arrest him.

The further deterrent to his apprehension or simply assassinating him was the uncertainty if the mastery would actually fade once he had died. It was widely believed that the only way to remove Heartbreaker mastery was for the villain to be forced to undo it himself.

Dealing with that bastard was a future project that was on the backburner, to be done when I felt that my obligations in Brockton were handled and there was a gap in new SCPs appearing - as unlikely as it was.

“Lay it on me, Henry,” I swiped the screen and the dossier appeared.

“Alec with the current cape name Regent aka Hijack aka Jean-Paul Vasil, the fifteen year old son of Heartbreaker who fled Montreal half a year ago.”

My eyes widened in amazement, “He managed to escape? Circumvent Heartbreaker’s control somehow?”

“It seems so. In Coil’s simulated timelines,” Henry couldn’t help but scowl as he said that, “he determined that young Alec had experienced enough trauma in the service of his father, that he not only Triggered, his actual brain development throughout his childhood had turned him into a highly functional sociopath. That sociopathy essentially means he can’t feel certain emotions, giving him a high resistance to not only his father’s power but also the powers of his siblings.”

“And now he’s in Brockton, pretending to be old enough to work as a waiter at a strip club in Downtown.” It was also smack in the middle of E88 territory.

Regent wasn’t making any significant waves either in his new persona. Seemingly content to live in a dingy low-rent apartment within walking distance of the club, using a large nest egg of cash he had no doubt stolen from his father and played console games in his off-time.

“He’s here to lay low from his father’s notice and he also downplays his powers. Merely using it to cause anyone he targets to fumble and stumble whatever they are trying to do or in extreme cases induce nausea. His actual power, which Coil rates as Master 8, is to fully puppet the nervous systems and powers of his victims, the qualifier being that he needs to spend a few hours ‘learning’ the nervous system of a person. He has a self-imposed limit of five people he can control simultaneously, any more and he begins to lose coordination, speech and movement as a side effect. There’s also a proximity limitation, the further away he is from his victim, the less he’s able to control them.”

“He could potentially affect me,” I said eventually, looking at the profile picture of the dossier. He was quite a pretty boy, tall, thin, black curly hair and he had a perpetually disinterested expression on his face.

“Yes, but the key is whether your own power would be able to find a vector through his sociopathy.”

“If he has any libido, then I can grab him. Now, the only question is if we should let Alec be. He doesn’t really bring anything to the table that I can’t do better.”

“As long as he keeps his nose clean and any villainy to minor acts, then it’s just a matter of ensuring that his presence in Brockton doesn’t gain the attention of his father. Perhaps a few listening and visual surveillance devices in his apartment to keep a general eye on him?”

“Do we even have the manpower for the task of reviewing the surveillance?” I asked.

“Coil needs more to do,” Henry smirked.

I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Coil watching hours of a teenager like Alec playing video games as another little bit of penance for his many crimes.

A specific ringtone from my smartphone ruined the moment of levity.

I thumbed the accept button and placed it against my ear, “Why are you calling, Oni Lee?”

“Kakaete-sama, I call on the order of Lung-sama. You asked him to inform you of any potential dealings with other parahumans. He is to enter into negotiations with a new recruit later today at three in the afternoon.”

The ABB gaining another cape was serious business, especially to keep it from upsetting the delicately balanced applecart of the city. “Where?”

“Downtown coast, 41 Cliff street.”

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It was not a place you’d expect to see the leader of the ABB take a meeting with a new parahuman recruit. Ego, first impressions and rep were a huge deal in the cape community and doubly so when you were dealing with someone of Lung’s fearsome reputation.

However, I’d quickly learned in my pillow talk with him, when we weren’t screwing each other senseless, that Kenta’s cunning intelligence was not to be underestimated. For all that he blustered about bullying his way through any opposition just because he was ‘Lung’, he recognized the value of being unpredictable. 

A posh two floor wooden house, painted in a gray-white exterior, long gravel driveway, manicured lawn in a suburb that was as middle-class as it came. It was the house of a senior lieutenant in the gang, picked at random.

The large living room had been rearranged and cleared up for the meeting.

Lung sat on the end of the large leather couch, whilst I appropriated his lap as a cushion, laying down next to him, with my legs propped up and crossed on the soft edge.

My thumb lazily swiped my smartphone as I reread all the information I had been able to gather on short notice about this recruit. All the while, Lung’s left hand lazily rested on my stomach, occasionally caressing and even fondling one of my breasts.

It was all a show to present Lung as the dominant and him showing me off.

The door opened and Oni Lee led the way for the recruit.

She was rather short and I could generally peg her age at roughly twenty years old. Her costume wasn’t really what you’d call professional, but had that repurposed look that usually came with Tinkers who had a limited budget and lived off the land. Her face was hidden by a full face gas mask with large round eye lenses that were opaque from the outside. The filter near her mouth was fully functional and I could spot the craziness of Tinkertech at work inside. Her breathing hissed in and out in a rather eerie manner.

A long back coat that came down to her calves hid all manner of Tinkertech inside it, most of which I couldn’t guess at the function, but there were definitely a few explosives in there - grenades of a type - whilst her navy blouse and denim jeans completed the look. Her white well worn sneakers also had tech concealed in them.

I’d be worried about a Tinker entering any room with such clear weapons on her person, but it was apparent from studying this aura that I’d have few issues in emotionally dominating and mastering this woman. Oni Lee would also be able to bury a knife in her neck in less time than it’d take to blink if she turned out to be hostile in the meeting.

The ugly combo of deep purple and the ambers of arrogance radiated outward like a fog from her. Self-assurance was also there but it was overwhelmed by the burnt orange of pride. She was only slightly intimidated by being in the presence of Lung. Underneath all that hid someone though that wanted recognition and acceptance, someone who thought themselves a ‘genius’ and had Triggered because they couldn’t accept being given a failing grade.

Then promptly decided that holding an entire building full of people in her university hostage with her Tinkertech bombs to change that grade was a good idea.

The full roster of the New York Protectorate had intervened, which included Legend.

That this woman was still free, at large and in front of me now spoke of her potential power as a Tinker and her intelligence.

The Achilles heel in her emotional balance, which I could drive a truck through, was a deep seated insecurity and inexperience that even she was seemingly unaware of or had purposefully suppressed, to the point that she no longer acknowledged it. It was just waiting for me to poke at and it was right in my wheelhouse.  

“Bakuda,” said Lung slowly in greeting.

“Lung-sama,” she replied, reluctantly allowing her head to bow in custom. The gas mask had a voice distorter that turned her speech to a robotic emotionless hiss, clearly meant to hide potential identification and acted as a layer of obfuscation from anyone trying to read emotional cues.

The name was a blatant choice for a cape persona, if slightly ridiculous to anyone with a knowledge of Japanese. Henry had it picked apart in moments with his encyclopedic brain.

“Sit,” Lung ordered.

She paused a second before complying and folded her long jacket around her legs before sitting down on a single seat couch placed opposite.

He observed her for a very long minute to see how she endured the scrutiny and a very uncomfortable silence. I also made sure to keep looking into my phone, giving no tells and acting every bit as Lung’s cape concubine.

Bakuda lasted forty seconds before she shuffled in discomfort on her seat, the second after Lung lazily palmed my breast again.

“Your performance in Cornell was impressive,” Lung said suddenly.

“It was easy,” she shook her head arrogantly. “I was ten steps ahead of everyone. The New York Protectorate was sloppy. They always think Legend will be there to pull their feet out of the fire. Give them one high threat distraction which diverts him somewhere else and they’re a bunch of capes running around cluelessly using their powers in a painfully predictable manner. It was almost sad but very satisfying watching them dance to my tune.”

“Yet you still had to retreat,” Lung retorted, puncturing her ego nicely.

“It wasn’t a retreat but a planned withdrawal.”

I suppressed a snort of amusement at her arguing semantics in front of Lung.

“Cleverness only goes so far, Bakuda,” he said gravely. “Your use of fear and uncertainty was effective, but had you faced one element that you had not planned or accounted for, your whole scheme would have collapsed. Did you know that Eidolon had been in New York just a day before your little spree kicked off?”

That knocked the wind clearly out of her sails. She tried her best to control any outward sign, but she might as well have been a kitten hiding under a carpet to me. She was also surprised that Lung would know the movements of one of the strongest and most versatile heroes of the Triumvirate.

Eidolon had indeed been there on an unannounced visit about a classified matter that even Coil’s access didn’t cover.

“No, I did not,” she said with extreme reluctance, the words dragged out of her when it became clear to her that Lung was demanding a response from his tone and body language.  

“You are a Tinker and human, you need time to build, you cannot think of everything and can be surprised. Under my ABB, you will have that time, you will not lack resources and you will be under my protection. I will show you how to use fear and intimidation in ways you have not considered.”

“That is certainly an interesting and enticing offer, Lung-sama.”

He snorted, “It is one you cannot refuse. You used the last of your resources getting to Brockton Bay undetected. You can certainly steal or coerce more money, but that risks grabbing the attention of the local Protectorate - where you will face Armsmaster and Dragon of the Canadian Guild, who has a suit now permanently stationed here.”

She was again surprised at Lung’s accurate knowledge and the confusion building in her was clear, she was beginning to wonder how he knew. Her expectations of Lung as an unthinking Brute was steadily being dashed.

“I see,” she said for lack of being able to say anything else. 

“Good. I recruited you because I’m expanding the ABB to be stronger in the face of the Empire 88 and the Protectorate - who are soon to increase their numbers due to the changing local situation. Are you aware of it?”

“I did my research,” Bakuda bristled, as if insulted that she would go into any place unprepared.

“Which is incomplete and stunted, you know only what the authorities wish is known,” Lung waved off her words. “This city is the target of an extra-universal power, which is dumping their creations on it and seeing how this city and world responds. The Train and Tree are both their work, there are others which have already been seen to, but the message is clear; more is coming.”

For the first time, the color of fear began to stain her aura, along with astonishment.

“One of the other Earths?”

“Yes, but which one is unknown. There has been no communication or evidence.”

“You have moles in the PRT or a Thinker behind the scenes,” Bakuda deduced as if it was obvious.

“Assume what you wish,” he retorted. “Until you have sworn yourself to me and the ABB, you will not know.”

“Do we have to go through the theatrics? It’s pretty clear I have no choice but to sign on.”

“You have two choices, you give me your oath, join the ABB or die in this room.”

That was not just Lung’s opinion on the matter, but it was something both Henry and I agreed on regarding Bakuda, after reading PRT New York’s analysis of her bombs used in Cornell.

These were devices that did not just go boom. They could also release extremely hostile exotic effects that were horrifying to contemplate being used on people and would be disruptive to civilization if she had even a fraction more resources to scale up. Quite a few of her bombs had clearly been inspired from observing the powers of heroes and villains in New York and her Tinker power allowed her to imitate these effects on a small scale.

The only reason I wasn’t already busy Mastering and programming her with hypnosis was because throughout her stunt at Cornell she hadn’t killed any of the hostages, despite her threats and demonstrations. She had known if she went too far in that respect, the gloves would come off. 

Lung would keep her in line in the ABB, whilst I would be waiting in the shadows. She would expect Oni Lee to do the deed, but be blindsided when I came instead.

There was also no denying the utility of having Bakuda’s Tinker ability on call for dealing with hostile SCPs.

Bakuda’s reaction to the ultimatum was interesting to observe; indignant anger, fear and a building determination.

“Fine, I’ll join you.”

Oni Lee stepped forward and presented one of his throwing daggers to her, hilt first.

She glanced at the weapon briefly, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Take it,” Lung ordered gravely.

She reluctantly complied, grabbing it quickly.

“I care not where you draw it from yourself, but you will spill your blood on your oath.”

“This is some yakuza shit, isn’t it?”

“Watch your tone, Bakuda,” he punctuated his words by emitting flames and letting it flow from his right hand, where it made dancing spiral patterns.

She hesitantly rolled up her jacket’s left sleeve, exposing her forearm before making a careful incision on the side that had the most muscle and no dangerous veins to nick. Her arm turned over and she flexed a fist, causing blood to pool enough to begin dripping slowly.

“Swear yourself to me, Bakuda. I am your oyabun,” Lung began.

“I swear myself to you as my oyabun.”

“You are my soldier, my lieutenant and my hand.”

“I am your soldier, lieutenant and hand.”

“You are my will made manifest on the world.”

“I am your will made manifest on the world.”

“Until death take you.”

“Until death take me.”

Lung nodded. “Return the knife. Give her the medkit.”

Bakuda did so and immediately grabbed the medkit from Oni Lee hands and set to work disinfecting, stitching and bandaging up the cut.

Lung also decided to pass the few minutes it took her doing this by more eagerly playing with my abdomen and boobs.

The Bomb Tinker remained admirably focused on her task despite the distraction of it. Her aura was a play of contradictions, both turned on by it and disgusted.

“In the room across the hall you will find a study. Use what you find there to make a list of everything you’ll need to construct a lab for yourself.” Lung grabbed my phone out of my right hand, then quickly caught me by the left, before lifting me easily onto his lap. I straddled him immediately and began kissing his neck underneath the mask. “Go.”

Bakuda didn’t need to be told twice, she sprinted for the door as Lung ripped his pants off.

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Micro Lathe.

Ayame’s hand paused and she regarded what she had written on the lined paper. Her brain uncharacteristically struggling to come up with what to write next.

She should’ve been able to fill the entire page by now in no time at all. How many times had she made herself a wish list of materials and tools since that fateful day when her power manifested?

Yet now her back was shivering with nervous energy, her stomach tying itself in knots, the characteristic tingling of fire between her legs, which traveled up her spine, into her brain and bounced back down to her loins.

She glared at the closed door to the study, which didn’t help at all in stopping the sounds of Lung fucking his whore.

The door was solid wood of two inches thick but the house interior walls were the culprit in letting the sound through, including the enthusiasm of the rutting pair.

It was extremely distracting and yet she did not understand why it was now affecting her like this. She’d been in similar situations in the dormitories of Cornell. Her dorm neighbor Julie had been practically busy with her boyfriend every night and Ayame didn’t have problems then.

She gritted her teeth and focused…

Compact Bench Scale at least accurate to the microgram - preference to the OHAUS brand.

Breathless, gasping soprano moans pierced into the study and seemed to stab themselves into Ayame’s ears.

She made a mental note to investigate selective hearing protection for her mask. There were some of her bombs that were sonic in nature. It was a stupid oversight not to have developed a method where they could be used in close quarters without damaging her own hearing. Not to mention the possibility of the opposition using sound as an attack method.

Fisherbrand 17R Microcentrifuge. NOT SOME CHEAPSHIT KNOCKOFF!

Ayame would need extreme precision and fine engineering tolerances if she wanted to achieve most of the ideas percolating in her head.

Deep bass grunting rumbled through the house and she had to slightly marvel at the fact that anyone could cause Lung to make such an involuntary sound.

For all that he was feared and known as the only cape to single handedly fight an Endbringer and live to tell the tale, that he was a force of inevitability, the Dragon of Kyushu - to hear proof that he was still just a man as well - was oddly disappointing.

Fume Hoods Extra Large.  

Nano enclosure 2ft width, built in ionizer.

Horizontal Clean Bench

Stainless steel radioisotope hood.

“Oh fuck yes! FUCK! Yes, yes, there… OH!”

Her thoughts were derailed again and she cursed as her back shivered. The sheer feeling of eroticism seemed to permeate the very air she was breathing. Ayame shifted uncomfortably in the office chair, very aware that her own panty was damp now.

She forcefully tried to push it all away, focusing only on the pad of reamed paper in front of her.

Ultra Thin Magnetic Stirrer, digital.   

Aluminum Ceramic Hotplate. 5 - 550 degrees Centigrade.

Compound LED Microscope.

She found her zone, at last, beginning to fill the page, moving onto the various materials and chemicals.

Then tore the page off the ream and started on a second one.

She was suddenly aware of a blessed silence in the house, but then a smell hit her nose - an achingly familiar one that made her mouth begin to water. It was her grandmother’s cherry pie? That was impossible, not to mention the gas mask should’ve filtered out any aroma particulate.

Then the shadow of a person standing by her left shoulder cast itself from the incoming light from the window.

Her heart hammered and she jumped up from her chair, a gas grenade which would induce violent nausea was in hand and primed.

The whore stood there, still nude, nonchalantly with her hands folded behind her back and looking down at the list. Her skin was glistening with sweat and other fluids practically all over, reflecting the sunlight framing her from behind, casting her in an eerie radiance. The wet labia between her long, lithe legs was inflamed and standing proudly in clear view, the whore making no point of hiding it by her stance. Even as she watched a drop fell from it to the floor. The perked nipples on her breasts stood outward and looked like they could cut steel. Long dark hair spilled over her head and seemed to perfectly hide her face.

How had she gotten in here? She would’ve heard the door open, the single window of the study was also firmly closed.

Ayame’s finger was on the point of pushing the button on the grenade but her astonished mind managed to put the pieces together.

The whore was a cape.

Teleporter?

“Interesting list,” she said.

Ayame snorted in derision, “Do you even know what half of it is?”

“In fact, I know what most of it does. Naturally I’m no professional scientist or a Tinker, so if you ask me what a potentiometric titrator is, I’m going to have to disappoint you. My name is Escort and I’ve been assigned by Lung-sama to get you settled and introduce you to a number of ABB functionaries that’ll handle the day-to-day needs of your work. I’m also your point of contact for Lung-sama. If you have something important that needs to reach his ears, it will first go through me to determine if it’s worthy of bothering him and taking up his time.”

She stared at the cape, scrunching her face in confusion. Somewhat satisfied that she was no immediate threat Ayame sat back down and deactivated the grenade, returning it to its holster under her jacket. “You’re not Asian, yet you’re part of the Azn Bad Boys?”

“How do I know you’re actually Asian behind that gas mask?” Escort retorted airily. “You’ll find that while Lung-sama has united all the old Asian expat gangs under his banner to form the ABB, that he has no racial qualms. He is of mixed racial origin and he views everything through a lens of power and strength. In his eyes, I lead the Red Light district of working girls in Brockton, even though I make no such personal claim. I’m in the ABB, even though I consider myself a corporate hero. When Lung wants something, he gets it. Otherwise this city burns and no one wants that.”

Ayame understood that well enough. “All right, but…” That lovely smell hit her nose again and her eyes locked unwillingly on that glistening pussy standing by her shoulder. She felt her loins also stirring in concert with the stimulation from her nose. Her arousal was building. The thought of what had just happened in the opposite room replayed into her own imagination. “Couldn’t you have cleaned up a bit before coming here?” she asked plaintively and hated that she sounded so weak.

Escort laughed briefly, looking down as if she just noticed she was still covered in sexual fluids. Her hand emerged from behind her back and she ran a delicate finger through her folds to stop another drop that had been threatening to fall to the floor.

It was the last straw for Ayame and her hands gripped the table reflexively as an orgasm shuddered through her body. Releasing the pent up arousal that had accumulated. Her panty was now thoroughly soaked as the pleasure smashed through her mind and body.

Her gasping breathing distorted oddly through her vocoder, and she bit her lip with her last bits of will to stop anything as embarrassing as a moan from escaping her throat.

What was this? Why was she such a lightweight?

When was the last time she had even brought herself off? 

She… she couldn’t remember.

She’d never had the time for a boyfriend. Academics, the pressures of fulfilling the expectations of demanding parents, prevented even thinking about it. Only the talk and gossip of acquaintances and friends, a few secretly watched porn videos, listening to others doing the deed, her own explorations with her hands - that was the extent of her experience of sex.

Ayame collapsed bonelessly into the chair as she experienced post-orgasmic bliss.

“Well, that is task number one, Bakuda. We really need to get you laid.”

She glared at the cape whore behind her mask.

Someone was going to die for this humiliation.

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No new SCPs.

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A/N: I've always wondered what could give rise to a personality and character like Bakuda. Enjoy your weekends and stay awesome folks.

May the 4th be with you.

In honor of Star Wars Day, I thought I'd share an image that celebrates SDXL finally getting Ahsoka's lekku and montrals to an acceptable level. The armor also just hits the spot nicely. The glaring issue is the eyebrows, but that can be imagined as Ahsoka just using her cosmetic/tattoo kit to imitate that.

Cheers and have an awesome day.

The Force Wills - Chapter 89

“Easy, easy.”

Barriss patted me on the back as I coughed to get rid of the drink that had unfortunately gone down the wrong pipe.

I gave the drink in question a stink eye and used my internal Control to get rid of the last bits of avedame juice from the upper portions of my airway, then reset the nerves to get rid of the now false signals it was sending to my brain. 

“Urgh, this stuff is… strong,” I cleared my throat again and wiped tears from my eyes.

“You get used to it,” she smirked and drank from her own glass.

We were seated around a table in a corner of the RMSU’s relatively small cantina. The place barely had forty square meters to work with, a low ceiling and its decor was minimal at best. The designers had clearly not wanted people to spend too much time in the place, given their job was to generally save lives or support those who did that job. The seats were uncomfortable, with no cushions or even backrests. Everything had a chrome finish, the lights were bright and glaring overhead.

Yet despite the intent, that actual personnel assigned to RMSU-5 had thumbed their noses at that; putting all sorts of decor on the walls; holopics, artwork and donated items that definitely gave it a more homely feel at least. There was even a stuffed Rontu trophy head hanging above the bar.

The place was currently quite packed with a menagerie of medical personnel coming off shift after the last attack and there was a lot of steam being vented and sorrows drained. In the background, music was blasted throughout the space, a typical Outer Rim cantina beat that was practically its own genre in the galaxy.

The general din in the place was high enough that everyone had to shout at each other if they chose to talk.

Of course, Barriss and I were cheating, empowering our words with the Force so their meaning would come across even if they were distorted or drowned out by the noise.

The red colored drink was pretty good at least, but it had a pungent aftertaste that felt like someone was punching you in the throat. This was also the non-alcoholic version. It hadn’t taken a few weeks after the first landings on Drongar for someone to use the avedame fruit in a locally built, makeshift distillery. Now it was practically standard issue for every RMSU to have one and offer the drink. It was also apparently quite popular at the main HQ cantinas.

My coughing fit was thanks to the alcoholic version, which I carefully pushed to the side and returned to the more palatable version in the second glass in front of me.

Barriss on the other hand was chugging it down with no problem.

“You’re not doing that to get drunk?” I asked her pointedly.

She shook her head, “I consider it my own internal Control exercise, preventing the intoxication whilst still enjoying it.” Her brows frowned as she stared into her drink.  “It’s just amazing to think the Celestials are actually still influencing the galaxy.”

“Not exactly a new thing.”

“Yes, they’ve left artifacts and legacies, but this was an active artifact that trapped you in a totally new space-time phenomenon and you were lured there by them. One has to wonder why.”

“Join the many Jedi scientists also wondering the same thing. I was poked and prodded for weeks by them.”

“And they found nothing?”

“Besides the obvious, that we grew, trained and became stronger in the Force as a result of the time spent there,” I shrugged and carefully took another sip.

“Maybe it was something to do with your master. You and Master Kenobi were just caught in the wake of that.”

“Entirely possible,” I said, making sure to keep my masks sending the right message to my friend. It was shit that I had to deceive her by omission in this manner, but that was the price to pay for security.

“Well, whatever the reason or providence, I can only say it’s done you good from what I can tell.”

“But enough about me,” I patted her hand. “What about you? How did your path bring you to Drongar of all places?”

“I resolved to remain a healer as you recall from our last meeting. However, the routine of the Halls of Healing combined with the constant news from the war began to wear on me. It finally dawned when I was healing some rich business magnate that I had effectively sealed myself off from the war and the pain of the Jedi we had lost in the Geonosis arena. For a moment, I had totally forgotten them…”

She took a few moments to compose herself, looking away from me. “I didn’t want to return to combat but now I felt that I had to return to the front lines. Of the wounded Jedi and troopers who made it to Coruscant, there were so many cases where their conditions would’ve been much better if my healing had reached them sooner. So I spoke to Master Unduli, she spoke to the Council and at some point in discussions between them and the GAR, the idea for the Rimsoos was born.”

“Wow, so you’re in effect the seed or impetus for all this,” I gestured vaguely around me.

“I naturally can’t take all the credit, Ahsoka.”

I nodded, “Of course. But why Drongar?”

“I was offered a position on a number of front line garrison planets where the RMSUs were being deployed. I can only say that it must be the will of the Force. I remember seeing it and without even looking at the brief, I just knew that this was the place.”

“Then you read the brief and were even more intrigued,” I said knowingly.

“I’m a healer, Ahsoka. The bota plant has the potential to save so many lives in the Outer Rim, where health care is either primitive or non-existent. We’ve even begun using it in a limited trial program for the clones.”

“And in yourself,” I finished for her.

She gave me a shrewd look for a moment before giggling, “Figures, Tedrad roped you in as well, didn’t he?”

I sighed, “That he did, after I thoroughly embarrassed myself by going all lusty fangirl on him.”

Now Barriss was winking at me, “He is rather delish, isn’t he?”

I gave her a severe stare, “Are you really Barriss Offee and not some clawdite changeling? Where is the prim and proper mirialan with a stick up her behind?” I asked jokingly.

She slapped my shoulder. “Stop it. To get back to my story, after I was assigned here I initially trained with the folks at RMSU-7 and served there, but now the Jedi healers are posted around on a rotation basis to the various Rimsoos.”

“And you’ve been healing here ever since.”

She grew still for a moment, taking a deep sip of her drink. “And fighting in defense of the Rimsoos,” she admitted.

“Do the Separatists attack them often?” I asked delicately, immediately sensing that we were nearing a sensitive subject.

“We keep the clones in fighting shape without having to ship them offworld, Ahsoka. Of course the Rimsoos are targeted.”

It didn’t take Holmes level deduction skills or postcognition to see that Barriss had not come unscathed through these fights. She had lost friends she had made among the staff of the Rimsoos. Their loss hung on her spirit like an ugly blanket. There was also one which hurt more than most.

My arrival had done much to soothe her and I was glad for that. It made the whole trip worth it far more than just trying to compile a report for the Jedi Council on Admiral Bleyd.

I now put my hand on hers and looked her in the eye, conveying my knowledge and support. It didn’t need to be said, but I said it anyway, “When you feel ready to talk about it, Barriss, I will listen with no judgment and be a shoulder for you to lean on.”

For a long moment, she was absolutely still, just staring into her drink. Then her hand turned around in mine, interlacing our fingers and she gripped it with moderated strength.

“Thank you, Ahsoka. I feel your sincerity and welcome it. I’m not promising I will speak of it though.”

“Fine, just putting the offer out there,” I gave her hand a last squeeze before pulling back. “So to get down to a bit of business, I also want to ask about Admiral Bleyd and generally agreeing with the other Jedi on Drongar on keeping things quiet.”

“What is there to say, Ahsoka? You’ve already spoken to Tedrad. The promise of bota is too great for us to get hung up on the letter of the law. If this gets back to Coruscant, they’ll demand Bleyd’s arrest and return. He’ll then be replaced by someone else, but whoever that is will just find themselves in the same situation. Both sides want the bota and if either side wants exclusivity and tries to deny it to the other, then the losing side will destroy the plants out of spite. Then no one will have it and we lose the promise of alleviating the suffering of countless people across the galaxy.” 

“Mistress!”

M8’s voice shouted from my helmet on the table.

Barriss was visibly startled and frowned in confusion as I picked up my helmet and put it on. “Barriss meet M8, an explorer droid integrated into my armor,” I jerked a thumb at myself.

“Hello Padawan Offee!” M8 chirped.

She laughed incredulously, “Only you, Ahsoka, only you. Still hard to imagine you’re a Mandalorian as well. I mean, I heard it through the Jedi gossip channels, but seeing that helmet and the entire squad of them arrive…”

“As your path led you here, so mine led me to them,” I shrugged. “What’s the problem, M8?” My HUD activated and I saw the Republic network mapped out, only now… “The datapad is active. Where is it?”

“Mapping geolocation data, Mistress.”

The network map vanished to a rendered view of Drongar, which zoomed in to the Jasserak Lowlands, more to the east, quite close to what was called the Khondrus Sea, which was the current location for RMSU-7.

“What’s going on?” Barriss asked curiously.

“Chasing another lead on the admiral. Something which tells me he’s more than just a pragmatic, unconventional officer but also a potentially corrupt one. What do you know about Rimsoo 7?”

“Was stationed there for a few weeks, it’s a much more cozy posting. Their location means it's rare for any Separatist attacks to reach them, so the Rimsoos send them any patient overflows. There’s also a nice uncontested bota field nearby, so the harvesters use the Rimsoo as an unofficial base of sorts.”

“Interesting.”

Barriss laughed, “Oh, I know that tone. You’ve figured something out, haven’t you? Or you’re cunningly hatching some plan.”

I folded my arms and let my helmet’s Mandalorian pattern and body language do most of the talking. “You know me too well it seems. I have suspicions, which I need to confirm before I take any action, therefore I need to get to Rimsoo 7.”

“How soon do you think you’ll need to leave?”

“I have two injured mandalorians currently in the care of this place. We’ll spend the night and leave at first light.”

I felt her relief at hearing that. She clearly wanted to spend more time together and didn’t mind me knowing that, letting the feeling slip through her defenses on purpose.

“Let’s take a walk then.”

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We spent the rest of the evening just talking as friends do, occasionally interrupted by some or other medical emergency, which we both attended to. It left me with a nice warm feeling in my own heart, making me realize that my own spirit had also needed some balming.

The act of healing together, cooperating, just being with someone you trust on that level was just as good as a vacation. It also allowed me to see just how Barriss had grown in the Force as well, which seemed to be a product of her own natural growth, training and further assistance from taking bota.

I slept in the now empty Juggernaut tank’s hold with the Blades and Chewie that night.

The next morning I found my two injured warriors, no longer injured and Barriss standing outside the tank.

Just one look at them told me that she had personally healed both to the point where they were back in fighting shape.

“Thank you.”

“Figured you could use them at top form and you could use me,” she said with a mild smile.

“Aren’t you needed here?”

“The pace of battle is different on Drongar, Ahsoka. The local Separatist forward base will need quite some time to restock its forces. Things will be quiet here before I am needed again. In the meantime, I figured you could use someone more familiar with the land and especially the people.”

I couldn’t really find any reason to object and if it meant we could spend more time together, especially in the middle of this war when things were so uncertain.

“Then welcome aboard, Barriss.” I turned to the tank. “Lt. Dozer, start her up!”

The Juggernaut rumbled into life, its reactor and motive engines thundering the very earth we stood on as we boarded the massive vehicle.

For this trip I decided to take a seat in the forward commander’s dome. It had a two meter diameter and was armored like the rest of the tank, with internal holo displays that nicely mimicked internally what you would see if the dome had been made of transparisteel.

There was only one seat in it, but Barriss clearly didn’t mind standing.

“What’s the wookiee’s story?” she asked as the tank began its journey. It would technically reverse on the journey until we hit the appropriate fork that would allow it to turn for the eastern leg to the coast and Rimsoo 7.

“His name is Chewbacca and I hold his life debt after a mission to Kashyyyk, saved him from some nasty trandoshan slavers,” I explained shortly.

“And now he’s effectively a soldier in the GAR.” The disapproval was mild but clear.

“It’s the only way he could remain close to me and go where I walk. He also wanted to be involved in the protection of his system from the Separatists.”

She sighed and stared at the passing jungle. “I hate this war, Ahsoka. It’s turning us into something… different. Something I don’t think we’ll like by the end of it.”

“There is that possibility,” I admitted, tapping a control panel to bring up a scanner overlay. “Then again, the Jedi can just return to our original role. The GAR will have a large cadre of professional military officers at that point who can take over from us.”

“And who would they fight, Ahsoka?”

“If it comes down to it, criminals, pirates and slavers in the Outer Rim. They could bring the security of the Core Worlds to the outer reaches. A force of deterrence and civilization. The Republic would have more than just empty decrees and words on paper. The anti-slavery laws would actually have teeth behind it for once.”

“You’re forgetting about the Judicial forces.”

I shook my head, “No. Their numbers were always too few and not enough firepower. A paper bha’lir constrained by so much bureaucracy that they could never respond in time to any emergency if it happened even in the mid-rim. By all rights, they should’ve responded to the Naboo Crisis twelve years ago and booted the Trade Federation out by force if necessary. Yet they couldn’t, even if the Senate had given the order, due to the simple fact that they were outgunned by the Federation.”

Barriss really had no argument to give against that. “I just worry about a Republic with a dedicated military. It means that the Senate and Chancellor can now carry a figurative blaster to the table in any dispute against a world or people. What if that dispute is righteous and the Republic is clearly in the wrong?”

“Which is why military force must be a clearly mandated last resort and the Judiciary needs its relative powers increased substantially. It must become equal in power to the Senate and Chancellor’s office.”

She snorted a laugh, “Do you really think the Senate would ever allow that? Not to mention the chancellor.”

“Perhaps not. The balance of power in wartime naturally shifts to the chancellery. You can’t fight a war by committee after all, as much as the Senate tries to. Some of that power has to return to the Senate and Judiciary when it's over.”

“You make it sound so simple. I wish I had your optimism and foresight, Ahsoka. I know the sentient condition, as do you. Do you really think they’ll give up power? Do you think even we Jedi are immune to its allure? Some of us will want to remain in the military even if the Council orders otherwise.”

“We all have the right to leave the Order, Barriss. If the calling of their lives and the Force brings them along that path, then that’s what happens.”

“And if they abuse their Force powers? Fall to the Dark Side? You saw what happened with Bulq.”

“Then the Jedi will step in. We fight the Dark Side in all its forms, Barriss. What we shouldn’t do is make decisions in fear of what might be. The fear of a military and the Jedi Lords is what led to the Rusaan Reformation. The Army of Light was disbanded and you just have to look at history to see what unfolded in the Outer Rim of that era. The peace of the Core and Mid Rim over the last nine hundred years only happened, because the guns of those individual sector fleets kept it that way.”

She chuckled and looked at me with a lopsided smile, “I missed these debates with you.”

I laughed, “Now all we need is the rest of our little clique to complete the picture.”

“Do you think that will ever happen?”

“We can but hope, Barriss.”

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It was just after lunch when the tank approached Rimsoo 7.

They were deployed with a very nice view at the top of a cliff overlooking the Kondrus sea. The cliffs reminded me of Dover facing the English channel on Old Earth in structure at least, though you had to sprinkle an exotic alien jungle on top of it.

Our arrival also needed a suitable excuse, so as not to spook whoever was the owner of the illicit datapad. Barriss suggested I just pretend to be exactly what I was, someone compiling a routine fact finding report for the Jedi Council. Touring the various RMSUs on Drongar to see if there was anything they needed to do their jobs better or if things weren’t working. Barriss would act as my guide.

The excuse convinced the local commander of Rimsoo 7, Lt. Colonel Karred Hon, but the unfortunate consequence was that I became inundated with every little issue, suggestion and grievance from the personnel of the place.

I ended up walking around with a datapad so they could visibly see I was taking notes on their suggestions. Quite a few of the doctors believed I was just humoring them and that their brilliant idea wouldn’t make it to the ears of the Jedi Council.

Our exploration and talking to people randomly was all a ruse though to cover up the fact that M8 was steadily scanning and refining the location of the incriminating datapad.

“I have it, Mistress,” she announced on my HUD. “I’ve cross-referenced it with the quarters assignment map of Rimsoo 7. It belongs to an equani by the name of Klo Merit.” The personnel file was displayed next.

“He’s the primary minder of the Rimsoo.” A Minder was the Corusca galaxy equivalent of a therapist combined with elements of psychiatry. Merit had been on Drongar almost since the beginning of the campaign on the planet. He was well liked and there were no negative marks or red flags on his record. In fact, he was officially commended for his service on a number of occasions in looking after the mental health of so many. Even working with a number of clones whose combat conditioning had broken down in the face of the trials they had endured on the planet.

I gestured for Barriss to follow and we headed to the local Rimsoo’s cantina for a much needed break.

This one had deviated even more from the norm and was better set-up than Rimsoo 5’s, with local engineers managing to link a few modules together to increase the space available. It felt like I was walking into a homely pub, minus the wooden furniture. The music was even more agreeable to me, playing songs from my own favorite Rim band, The HU.

Barriss gave me a smirk, seeing my head moving along with the beat and throaty singing, as we approached and sat down at the bar.

“Still like that band?”

“Of course, they’ve only gone from strength to strength.”

“If you say so, two avedame fruit cocktails,” she ordered from the ortolaan bartender, who was sitting on a chair mounted on a rapidly moving robot arm to move him around, compensating for his small stature.

He rapidly blurted ‘Coming right up!’ in the babble of the ortolaan native language.

Barriss touched my hand briefly and her thoughts asked for permission to enter my mind through the Force.

“So what did you find?” she thought.

“The local minder, Klo Merit, is our initial suspect.”

“He has the datapad?” she asked in astonishment. I nodded. “What would he need that information for?”

“He has no need for it. So either he’s a spy or the true spy is merely using him as a front. Creating another layer of separation.”

“I can’t imagine Merit is a spy, he’s a decorated minder. He’s so…”

I could literally feel as Barriss thoughts ground to a halt as she turned around the idea of it in her mind.

“Trusting, approachable, inoffensive, ordinary. You feel like you can come to him with every problem in the world and he’ll always listen. Helped by his empathic abilities no doubt. It’s what makes them good minders. You realize of course the other occupation which praises those qualities.”

“A spy,” she handed me my glass of juice and began drinking her own.     

“We need to stealthily investigate his quarters to determine if he is one and who he’s working for.”

“Isn’t that obvious, Ahsoka?”

“The Separatists are a possibility, might be that he’s working for a criminal syndicate. At this point, the reason for the fighting here has definitely reached the underworld’s ears. Given how far we are out on the Rim and how close we are to Hutt space, they’re also a possibility.”

“The hutts, of course they’d want to muscle in on trading bota, can they ever not stick their grubby fingers in something?” she thought with annoyance.

“You know the answer to that already, Barriss. If there’s credits to be made, they’ll be there.”

“So how are we going to go about this?”

My mind churned over the problem. “M8, scrape everything you can on Merit from the Rimsoo’s network, any itinerary or schedule for him?” I subvocalized into my helmet.

“Found his official appointment register, mistress. He has rounds with patients for the rest of the afternoon and evening. He only comes off duty just before 2000 local time.”

“Can you find him on security sensors?’ 

“Scanning, mistress.”

It didn’t take long, given the small size of the Rimsoo. M8 displayed the security feed from one of the recovery wards in my HUD. The equani was standing next to a bed and talking with an injured clone trooper, making notes into a datapad. I pushed my senses through the connection and carefully stopped short of infringing on Merit’s mind, limiting myself to passive sensing only.

I gained quite a bit of information anyway, given that he was using his abilities currently on the clone he was talking to and felt no need to be cautious or even disciplined about it.

My hand found Barriss’ on the bar counter, looking outwardly like I was just tapping her hand to gain attention. I forged a brief Bond and pulled her mind across the bridge to show her what I was seeing. 

“Whoah, that is rather something,” she thought, feeling impressed by what I had done. “So we’re going to keep him under observation with Farsight?”

“Correct. M8 will keep digging the local datasphere. Merit knows that there are two Jedi here, so he’ll be extra careful in anything he does. We’ll have to be patient. Sooner or later, he’ll have to fulfill his function as a spy and that’s when we’ll know the truth of the matter.”

“How long can your cover of an inspection and fact finding mission last though? Most inspections according to regs last for two days, will that be enough?” 

“The thing with regs, in certain respects they can be guidelines and not hard rules. If it comes down to it, we’ll leave the Rimsoo and continue our surveillance from afar.”

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For the next two days I continued to be sounding board for every ‘good’ idea that the doctors and nurses of Rimsoo 7 had, all the while going on impromptu tours of the wards. I did an inspection of the local battalion of clone troopers currently responsible for security and they even put up a small parade inspection for me with Barriss and Ursa Wren by my side. I also kept the Blades busy with some training, simulating an attack on the Rimsoo.

Naturally, I was putting on a fake show for Merit to put in his report, a nice bit of counter-intel to send up the pipeline towards whoever his true masters were.

He avoided Barriss and I like we had plague, but it was inevitable that my inspection would eventually swing by his office. It was quite amusing to ‘see’ him frantically sanitizing the place for anything that could possibly clue us in on his duplicitous nature. Not to mention cleaning up his footprints in the local datasphere, completely unaware that M8 was watching his every action like a hawk already.

“Dr. Merit, you’re a difficult person to get a hold of,” I said, as Barriss and I sat down on some rather comfortable chairs in front of his desk.

“I’m rather busy, Commander Tano,” he said genially, shrugging his shoulders. Equani were tall bipeds, who were generally related to the Cosian species, the difference being they were entirely covered in soft fur, longer snout and head, with pointed ears topping their head that could swivel much like a canine. It was like I was looking at a horse/dog hybrid in terms of facial structure. Merit had mostly soft golden fur with streaks of visible gray that seemed to indicate aging. “The rigors of this world are great on everyone and I must do all I can to alleviate the stresses they endure. If I didn’t, we’d lose many people due to burnout or psychological breaks.”

“Something for which I thank you personally and I will convey the good work you are doing to the Jedi Council,” I said, whilst keeping my emotions in perfect order like any Jedi worth their salt would be able to, conveying exactly what I wanted his empathic senses to pick up. My helmet denied him any tells on my face and Barriss’ own emotions were also neatly conveying our honesty and sincerity. Her own poker face was also impressive, though she was using the hood of her Jedi robe to partially hide her eyes.

“I must also say that your commitment and sacrifice to your profession is impressive,” Barriss said evenly. “Especially given the disaster that happened to your homeworld.”

I could immediately tell that Barriss had pushed on a significant nerve. The entire office was subjected to a burst of titanic anger before it was brought under control and smothered. Merit’s face didn’t betray a hint and I had to tip my hat to this fellow’s level of emotional control.

“I apologize,” he sighed, clearly realizing we had picked up on it. “Every time I think I have put it behind me, something comes along to remind me of the cataclysm.”

“I’m sorry as well, doctor. Merely stating the facts. There are barely less than two hundred of your species left in the galaxy and yet you’re here on one of the most dangerous planets it has to offer.”

Equanus had been hit by a mega solar flare from their local star that had caught them completely by surprise, just six months before the Clone Wars had broken out. They were a people who rarely ventured beyond the atmosphere of their homeworld, despite having full spaceflight capabilities and even Senate representation. They were characterized as insular and had seen no purpose in venturing into the cauldron of the galaxy beyond occasions that were deemed absolutely necessary. Their homeworld had produced everything they ever needed and they were blessed in having every necessary element for modern civilization. They didn’t need to trade beyond luxury items.

Now they were on a fast track towards extinction.

Even with a cloning program there was just not enough genetic diversity left alive to make a viable population that didn’t die off after a few centuries according to even the best geneticists. The kaminoans could maybe genetically engineer those problems away, but it would require that the equani consent to that. Before the disaster they’d been firmly against gengineering and it was no different among the survivors.

Merit merely acknowledged Barriss’ words with a nod. “Yes. Fate has decreed to end my people and I was not going to sit in a corner on some decadent core world and do nothing with the time I had left. Before I leave this life, I will make my mark on the galaxy by doing good, by doing what I am good at.”

“I admire your resolve, Doctor,” I bowed my head. “I have reviewed your published work, especially with regard to the clones and it makes interesting reading.”

“Oh, what’s so interesting about it? Most who read the work of my profession find it unbearably dull and full of jargon that only minders understand.”

“To name just one of your points, the fact that the clones sometimes find ways to break their conditioning. That the trauma of war can sometimes shatter it and on a world like Drongar, that is even more likely.”

“No amount of simulated immersion, training and conditioning that the kaminoans give them can truly prepare for the realities of combat on some worlds. I’ll give the cloners credit though, they usually find and weed out those who will likely crack before they even put on that armor.”

“You also point out that the clones are only as effective as they are, because they,” I coughed, feigning discomfort, “still have their libidos.”

Merit’s equine face smirked, “Now I am impressed, commander. I couched that observation in so much jargon and academic language that it’s all but opaque to anyone outside my profession.”

“As a Jedi I have great interest in the sentient mind and I’ve made it my business to study it. Therefore the work of the minder profession is of great relevance.”

His ears perked and he titled his head, “I had always thought the Jedi Order subscribed to the notion that the Force could bring every revelation they would ever need regarding every subject.”

“There are some who do believe that,” I admitted with a nod. “But we have minds, therefore the tools of empirical study and science should be just as valid when it comes to the inner worlds of sentience.”

“Ha!” Merit clapped his hands with delight. “I sense we could talk all day on this topic, Commander Tano, but that is not why you are here. By now I know the question you will ask, so I will give my answer. I am content and have all I need. A minder requires very little to practice our profession. The few drugs we can prescribe for mental conditions are in stock and we won’t run out for some time based on current usage.”

“That is good to hear. So anything you wish to say for the ears of the Council?”

He sat back in his chair, folded his hands together, clearly thinking about it.

“No, I have nothing to say or suggest to them. Besides trying harder to find a way to end this war in a manner that doesn’t leave the galaxy a burning cinder. That is a general request I’m sure every reasoned, civilized sentient has.”

“That is something they are spending every moment on finding, doctor,” Barriss assured him before standing from her chair.

I stood as well and we bowed to him.

“We thank you for your time, Doctor Merit and will let you get back to it.”

“A pleasure to meet you, commander.”

We left his office and walked in silence down the small corridor and emerged out of a hatch into the open air. Our walk took us in the direction of the looming Juggernaut Tank in the distance.

“What do you think, Barriss?” I thought to her.

“It’s hard to say, on the one hand, you can’t help but feel sympathy for him. His race is basically extinct and every notion of decency is telling me that suspecting him of wrongdoing is… well, wrong.”

“Precisely, which is why I’m even more convinced he is a spy. He comes built in with a ‘social shield’, so to speak. No one would want to make his life more difficult than it already is, living with the extinction of his own race. Therefore, they tend to look the other way and make excuses for otherwise suspicious behavior.”

“We still need hard proof, Ahsoka. The datapad will not be enough.”

“Yes, we need to catch him in the act, under recorded surveillance. Nothing else would suffice as a basis for arresting him. Then again, I’m not sure arresting him is the right course of action. The greatest value in a spy is that he remains undetected. Once that cover is gone, they become a liability and the trick is to make the enemy think that their spy isn’t compromised. We can then trace his handler and begin mapping any further spies or the network, if it’s there.”

She glanced at me with a frown, “That sounds like it could take quite a bit of time.”

“If Merit is careful, it could take months. However, I have a hunch you could say. In less than 48 hours, a transport ship is due to take a processed load of bota from the nearby field to the Republic fleet in orbit. It represents months of careful harvesting and preservation work, therefore it's an extremely enticing target.”

“For destruction or theft?”

“Both are likely, with the former being more plausible. He’s in no position to steal the transport unless he believes his nature as a spy is compromised, unless he has outside help.”

“So we are leaving then,” she deduced.

“Yes, but not too quickly. A few more interviews, business as usual. It must seem natural.”

I felt her amusement, “When did you learn this sort of thing?”

“Oh, here and there as the need arose.”

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We left Rimsoo 7 at first light the next day.

I ordered the Juggernaut to cruise along the main road as if we were intending to return to the 205th headquarters.

Right until the moment we were thirty kilometers into our journey, at which point we stopped and turned the tank to forge a new path directly north and towards the nearby sea.

It slowed us down to barely twenty kph, but was understandable considering we were bulldozing our way through the jungle.

It took nearly three hours of hearing trees snap under the assault of the tank before we broke through to see a pristine white beach and ocean waves assaulting it.

“You can keep him under watch from this distance?” Barriss asked me.

“Yes,” I answered nonchalantly, leaning back in the chair in the commander’s dome. “It’s called farsight for a reason,” I teased her with a finger poke into her shoulder. She slapped my hand in good natured retaliation. “M8 has the entire Rimsoo under her digital fingers at this point and is watching more conventionally as well.”

I pulled off my helmet and hooked it onto a nearby railing, adjusting and shaking my lekku to a more comfortable position after their confinement.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Ahsoka?” she looked out towards the endlessly churning ocean dominating the horizon. “If this shipment is lost…”

“Bota is precious, yes, but it doesn’t help we prevent a sabotage and arrest Merit, only to alert his handler in the process. It’s best to sweep up both when the time comes. You don’t pull out a weed by the stem, but rather by the root, otherwise it just grows back and doesn’t solve the problem.”

“And what about the lives of the crew on the transport?”

I folded my arms. “That’s the nasty side of the espionage business and with command in general. It shares much in common with the concept of triage, something you know about first hand.”

Barriss winced and I could feel I had touched a nerve.

For a long while she continued to just stare out at the ocean, clearly working up the courage to broach a topic she wanted to share, but also didn’t because another part of her was railing against the thought.    

She leaned forward against the railing, her hands gripping hard and straining.

“His name was Rexor,” her voice was soft and she lowered her head to hide her expression from me. “A doctor at Rimsoo 12… we became friends after working on patients together…” She let out a shaky breath. “He was always so curious about Jedi, how we grew up and how I learned healing. I wanted to know about Iridonia, his people and… he was one of those people you just became fast friends with. It was like we just meshed, you know?”

“Yes,” I nodded, that would describe a fair number of my friends from both lives. Yet I sensed more from her as she said these words. “What happened to him?”

“He- he died during an attack on the Rimsoo. The defenses were overwhelmed, I was on the north side, defending as best I could, but we were flanked and droids breached the perimeter. He died defending his patients, sonic pistol in hand.” She sniffed thickly and wiped tears from her eyes. “He wasn’t successful, the droids blasted them dead in their beds anyway. No heroic final stand resulting in victory or saving their lives, just a pointless death.”

“His death wasn’t pointless.”

Her entire body stiffened and I felt her push down a surge of anger. “How can you say that?”

“From an objective point of view, yes, it achieved nothing, Barriss. Yet it meant everything to him personally. Imagine for a moment, he had not defended his patients. That he retreated and left them there to die whilst saving himself. Would he have been able to look himself in the mirror afterwards and not feel wretched regret and guilt?”

Doctors in the Corusca galaxy took a generally similar oath as the Hippocratic Oath, though it was called the Feno Oath - named after a legendary Coruscanti physician who it was thought had started the modern practice of medicine over 8000 years ago. It had undergone a few additions and revisions, mostly due to the various major wars over the millenia against the Old Sith Empire and Brotherhood. One of which was that a doctor was bound by oath and honor to always defend their helpless patients, in word and deed.

“No,” she admitted, standing upright and attempting to compose herself. “But it was after that… when we sent his body for transport back to Iridonia… that I was within hairsbreadth of rejecting the Jedi Code, of falling to the Dark Side…” She closed her eyes, hissing her breath through her teeth and I could feel her internal turmoil clearly. “It would’ve been so easy. To just take its power and wreck every droid in my path on this planet, kill every Separatist in orbit, for revenge, for Rexor. That’s what it whispered in my ear.”

“But you didn’t,” I put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

“No, and it was the Rexor who lives in my memories who stopped me. I thought I had already faced my Mirror test, but what I experienced felt an order of magnitude more powerful than that. Every day, it’s like I’m constantly fighting the Dark Side now.”

“Welcome to the club, Barriss,” I said wryly.

She whirled around and looked at me with surprise on her features. “What?”

“Yes, even me. I’m not some paragon of Jediness, my friend. I have a darkness as well. Everyone does and the stronger you are in the Force, the more it can potentially manifest.”

“When-”

I held up a hand to interrupt her, “It was during my time trapped with the Celestial artifact.”  

“Oh, I see, I think,” she shook her head. “Might be that the Force concentrated around this planet has something to do with it as well.”

“This is you, Barriss. Your darkness is something you must fight and yet accept as a fact of existence. I know it's natural to not want to face it, but you can’t point the finger to external factors and you must also come to terms with an important truth.”

“What truth?” she asked wearily.

“The potential had been there for Rexor to be more than just a friend to you. Did you think that at some point, you could’ve grown to love him?”

“D-d-don’t be ridiculous, Ahsoka. I would never - the Code-”

“Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force.”

She stared at me assessingly. “You follow Master Billaba’s revision.”

“It’s very easy to follow the first Code, when you’re cloistered in a Temple or Chapterhouse. Not so much when you’re on the front lines of a galactic war and faced with the realities of life and the galaxy. That is what happened to Master Billaba.”

Barriss bent down to open the interior hatch of the dome, her emotions all over the place, clearly wanting to retreat. “I must meditate on this.”

“Do whatever you must to find clarity, my friend.”

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The sudden whine of the Juggernaut’s reactors caused Barriss to open her eyes immediately and her heart raced briefly in fright before she got it under control.

She sat up from her sleeping bag in the tank’s main hold and saw that the mandalorians were already awake and going through the motions of checking and cleaning weapons, with discarded ration packs littering the floor around them.

Seeing them, she was hit again with the surrealism of the situation as she thought about the fact that Ahsoka was their leader and the head of one of the most prominent mando clans in existence. If anyone had said that her friend would become a mandalorian just a few months ago, she’d have rightly examined them for signs of insanity.

The tank whined again and began rocking as it moved under power.

She thought about asking one of the mandos about what was going on, but decided her curiosity could wait for Ahsoka’s word on the matter.

Her stomach was feeling rather like a void at the moment, but her eyes caught the ration pack next to her bag with a handwritten note scribbled on it ‘Eat, you’ll need it’ in her friend’s familiar writing.

Barriss peeled it open and began using the built in utensil to absently shovel food into her mouth.

These last few days with her old friend had been… an experience to say the least. At times she had felt like she was speaking to a complete stranger wearing Ahsoka’s skin and then there would be joking moments where the pre-war younger Ahsoka she remembered would shine through.

It made her despise this accursed war even more.

In retrospect, it should’ve been obvious that Ahoska would fall on the other side of the divide that had arisen on the Order because of the Clone War. She had always been critical of the Jedi Code. Never openly, but always in her arguments and debates would a sliver of it sneak through.

Her teeth bit on an empty utensil and she belatedly realized she had stabbed the empty ration pack to try and eat air.

She really had to do a bit of a morning meditation to regain equilibrium but her need for information won out.

Barriss also had to firmly dampen her olfactory senses as her own smell reached her nostrils. Keeping clean in the circumstances was problematic given the high heat and humidity of Drongar, but she resolved to find one of the Juggernaut tank’s refreshers afterwards if there was time.

She found Ahsoka standing in front of the map screen in the tiny command center, her finger tracing the rendered terrain thoughtfully.

“Morning Barriss,” Ahsoka said absently.

“Morning.” She yawned and stretched her arms. “What’s going on?”

“Well, M8 has made a number of alarming discoveries, which is why we’re preemptively moving the tank closer to the Rimsoo along the coastline.”

“Did Merit do something?”

“Yes, under the cover of darkness he left to meet a ship that had landed covertly nearby. It didn’t have a cloak, but it had a sensor spoofer and other systems to aid it in landing undetected. It was undoubtedly designed as a blockade runner.”

“Who was on it?”

“A falleen who Merit identified by the name of Tostox. There’s a good chance they’re referring to Thol Tostox, which if true puts an interesting spin on the loyalties of our equani minder. According to the Republic criminal database, Tostox is a known high ranking member of the Black Sun, with a list of offenses so long I could spend all day reciting it.”

Barriss frowned as she tried to parse that, “So are we looking at Admiral Bleyd working with the Black Sun?”

“Possibly, but given all the hidden sabotage programs M8 found in Rimsoo 7, I think that Merit is working for the Separatists as well.”

She widened her eyes in alarm, “What did he do?”

“Hidden programs to remote shut down life support systems, bacta tanks and all the automated defenses. There was even a program to introduce a virus into the organ cloning system, which would produce an actual biological virus in the organ being implanted into the clone. The virus in question is a nasty influenza-type pathogen that would spread to most species with human-adjacent lungs. I doubt he has the skills and experience to write these malicious programs, so his Separatist handler probably supplied them for him to merely upload.

“Merit has also been spending a lot of time on the hacked datapad and clearly referencing information that had been collated over months. Then he also stole a few tools from the Rimsoo’s mechanic shop. Combine this with the explosive device that Tostox handed off, I think it’s safe to say we are looking at something big happening when the bota transport is due to leave.”

Barriss looked at the chrono on her wrist, “Which is due to leave in two hours.”

“Commander Tano!” called Lt. Dozer. “We just received an emergency transmission from Rimsoo 7. They’ve detected a droid strike force of over eight hundred units bearing down on their position, ETA, one hour.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, the Force sang and moved around her.

“Frak!” she swore. “Dozer, I want all the speed you can give me on this beach terrain. Has the Rimsoo commander declared his intentions?”

“Not yet, commander. It’ll depend if a viable defense can be organized from the local units, otherwise the Rimsoo will have to pack up and evacuate.”

“How long does that usually take?”

“By the regs, two hours. Fifty minutes if they cut corners. Should we contact them?”

“No, not with a saboteur in their midst. They’ll see us coming on sensors eventually.”

“Ahsoka, with those hidden programs-” Barriss began.

“Relax Bar, M8 disarmed them. They’re duds. If Merit tries to activate them, he’ll be in for a rude surprise.”

Barriss would’ve ordinarily objected to the use of Ahsoka’s infernal nickname for her in this setting, but couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

A Rimsoo was under direct threat again. One which was considered the safest on the planet and once again she was going to be called to defend it. 

She fought against the dark memories of that awful night bubbling up to the surface. Her darkness rose anew, whispering that the power to stop it all was there for the taking. She just had to reach out…

NO!

Barriss stared at Ahsoka, seeing her wonderful friend shining like a beacon in the Force…

NO! I will not. My enemies will be defeated without me losing myself to you. Go!

She fortified herself with the Force, finding her calm and center with a surprising alacrity.

“What do we do, Ahsoka?” she asked with determination.

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A/N: Slight bridging chapter for setup. More Barriss POV to come. Have a great weekend folks and stay awesome.

The Force Wills - Chapter 88

The primary headquarters of the 205th on Drongar was laid out in a standard circular fashion of modular base construction and ring roads to potentially house more than thirty thousand troops if it had to. The base was on one of the largest landmasses of the southern hemisphere, known only as Tanlassa.

Every planetary base had unique challenges in piecing together and laying down the modules on the surface, which also informed the layout and other adaptations where necessary. In this case, the 20 000 acres of jungle that would normally have been blasted clear to make room had been cleared the hard way by hand tools and the elbow grease of droid and clone.

Also important to prevent flooding in the base from the near constant overhead monsoon, was a drainage system that fed directly into the neighboring marshlands.

M8 was directly interfacing with the local Republic network and guided me through the streets and blocks of double stacked housing, industrial, storage and administrative modules. The majority of everyone walking around were clone troopers but there was the occasional utility droid and a few random non-clone naval and army officers. They were distinguished by the heavy rain coats hanging over their uniforms.

The other odd thing missing from the picture was the fact that there were no speeders of any kind on the streets - everyone was walking and jogging to get from A to B in the base.

That no one had retrofitted or built something as primitive as a four wheeled electric vehicle to help things along was again due to the hyper oxygen environment. Why go to the trouble to build that when it’d rust into uselessness within a month. The streets were also quite muddy, despite the drainage system and I could imagine that a wheeled vehicle would also bog down eventually.

The brisk walk to the central district of the base took nearly eighteen minutes from the landing pads on the outskirts.

I stopped in front of a tall modular building that clearly showed it was among the oldest; with all the moss and exterior rusting evident on it.

A tap on the controls caused the heavy exterior blast doors to part.

Inside was a decon airlock, which began spraying into the air a variety of chemical agents that M8 quickly analyzed as an unholy mixture of every anti-fungal that Republic science could manufacture. 

Afterwards, the air circulated again and her readings showed a significant drop in overall oxygen content. It was at least enough so I could remove my helmet indoors.

The last step of the cleaning process involved my feet, stepping into a recessed bath that cleaned off mud and other particulates.

“Scanning please wait…” announced the androgynous voice of a droid. “Scan complete. Sterilization with acceptable tolerances. Inner doors opening.”

I emerged into the typical wide octagonal hallway of these Republic bases, which was just a few degrees off from the industrial, brutal nature of future Imperial bases. The difference being there was still soft white, blues and reds used in the walls, whilst the floors were gray; lingering remnants of the original Kaminoan design for their clones.

“M8, disengage oxygen dampening,” I ordered. It would be rather embarrassing to pass out now.

The corridor branched off in three immediate directions, but my route took me straight to a ladder to climb onto the next floor.

A few left and right turns later, I stopped in front of the door labeled, ‘Laboratory 9’.

I tapped the entry chime.

Moments later the Force flexed somewhat from inside and the doors opened as the Jedi inside worked the controls from a distance.

Beyond was a rather large laboratory; wall mounted screens, desks aplenty with various instruments simple and complex mostly centered around chemistry and biological sciences. The lighting was rather muted inside, with the principal illumination actually coming from the screens of the various computers. It gave a rather eerie vibe to the place.

“One moment,” said a pleasant, rich baritone voice that felt like it was massaging my montrals.

It came from a figure in the corner of the lab, who had his face partially obscured in the viewing hood of a nanoscope, his body leaning over the device. 

Just from a passive reading, I could tell he was reasonably strong in the Force and his entire being was focused on puzzling out something. His right hand was tapping rapidly on a datapad next to the nanoscope, taking shorthand notes.

I kept my patience, waiting for the Jedi and idly examined the rest of the lab, noting an area to the right that was sealed off with a small airlock, beyond which were a number of bota plant cultivars in pots that had constant mist irrigation falling on them from above.

“Ah ha, there we go,” he said, making a last note before removing the hood and straightening himself.

I braced myself as much as possible, internally fortifying my mental defenses and bodily reactions. Despite all that, when Jedi Knight Zac Tedrad, properly walked into the minimal overhead lighting, it was still the equivalent of getting figuratively hit over the head with a bat.

If I had to properly describe it in words - imagine the most handsome male face you could possibly think of, with every feature you could ascribe to that; jawline, chin, nose, lips, then spin that into a unique combination. Flawless light pink skin on that face with dimples, soulful green eyes, then frame it with silver hair.

He was wearing the beige, brown and white of a Jedi, but that’s as far as it went. A nearly skintight bodysuit showed off a figure that had my hands twitching as I was struck with the impulse to want to run them over those glorious pecs and abs. I was somewhat thankful that he had not turned around yet, because I had no doubt his butt would be just as perfect.

His perfect face smirked ruefully and he covered his glorious body with a Jedi robe that was lying nearby on a chair.

It was enough to somewhat break his spell on me and I didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry that he had done so.

Bloody Zeltrons, I thought to myself.

Naturally, he had picked up on my stupefaction through the Force combined with his race’s inherent empathic abilities. There was still that lingering impulse to just jump him in the back of my hindbrain.

With regained mental composure, I bowed. “Greetings, Knight Tedrad. I’m Padawan Ahsoka Tano.”

“Pleasure and honor to meet you, padawan.”

His voice made my spine want to shudder with pleasure, knees turn to jelly, not to mention signals for lubrication to be released from between my legs, only my internal Control was dampening the effect of his pheromones.

“Honor?” I asked in confusion.

“Your exploits in the war with your master are rather well known,” he said gently with a smile that showed off his dimples.

“Of course, stupid question, never mind,” I coughed to clear my throat. Some of the pheromone effects were still sneaking through.

“How can I help you?”

I suppressed the first answer ‘You can take off that robe,’ and instead said, “It’s come to my attention that there is an illegal agreement between Admiral Bleyd and the local Separatist commander. Are you aware of it?”

Tedrad folded his arms, but my eyes were involuntarily drawn to his open robe and the effect this action had on his pectorals.

I was asking a question I already knew the answer to. None of Tedrad’s reports back to Coruscant mentioned anything of the sort and not one of the local Jedi could remain ignorant of Bleyd’s dealings. The admiral hadn’t exactly gone out of his way to keep his collaboration secret. Tedrad knew we were speaking ‘on the record’ at the moment and I was technically asking for his admission at the very least for failing to report this to the Jedi Council.

“Are you going to ask the other Jedi on this world the same question, padawan?” he countered with a pleasant smile.

“Yes, of course,” I said immediately. Looking for a single scapegoat was the last thing I wanted.

Tedrad nodded, “Then I can say, yes, Padawan Tano. I became aware of it in my third week here during a resupply run. At that point, I was well aware of the status quo on this nightmare world. A status quo that has effectively trapped both sides in it. The Separatist Commander is a muun, by the name of Rersh Plaith. From what I understand, it was he who first reached out to Bleyd.”

“Really?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes, and one thing you can count on from a muun with his back to the wall, is to somehow talk and negotiate his way out of it. Plaith wanted to save his own skin and as you know, Dooku doesn’t tolerate failure. On the one hand, he had to get useful amounts of bota off the planet, but on the other, properly fighting for it risked destroying the very resource everyone was here to get. He couldn’t go back to Raxus Prime empty handed and survive. So he did what was unthinkable at the time and reached out a hand to his enemy.”

Tedrad pulled a chair forward and sat down on it with a weary huff. My hands twitched as I imagined caressing those wonderful abs.

“Bleyd was initially skeptical and at first rebuffed any attempt by Plaith to negotiate, but the reality of conditions on this world became quickly clear to the admiral. This is where I think Bleyd’s sakiyan nature took hold. Honor is incredibly important to them and he is also a cunning and ambitious individual. He considers this posting to be a backwater, totally unworthy of his talents and command. Failing here in his mission was unacceptable on a deeply personal level, so eventually he accepted Plaith’s increasingly desperate attempts at communication.”

“And now we have what is in effect a carefully managed ground war on this planet,” I said with a nod of understanding.

“Correct, Padawan Tano. I was the third of the four Jedi on this planet to arrive. The previous two agreed that maintaining this status quo was for the best, given the nature of life and consequently the Force itself on this world. I agreed and so did the one who came after me when we persuaded her. I’m curious, have you sensed it, padawan?”

I warred within myself on whether to admit it at all.

My senses spread out into the lab, then into the probability lines of prescience, one of which nearly broke my concentration with embarrassment.

“Yes,” I eventually answered, suppressing the blood flows that would’ve resulted. “There are no words in Basic to describe the nature of the Force here. Calling it merely ‘stronger’ is an understatement and merely scratches the surface. You could say it’s a Force Nexus, but again it’s like blind men touching various parts of a bantha and each saying it’s a different animal.”

Tedrad was surprised and showed his delight at my analogy with a brilliant smile that threatened to turn me into gooey mush, “Impressive padawan. I hope you let me borrow that saying. You’re correct, the Force here has what I like to call an undifferentiated potential. How well versed are you in biology?”

“I was a year short of gaining my full Healing credentials at the Temple, when the Force carried me on a different path,” I revealed.

“Excellent, come look at this.”

He walked over to one of the larger wall mounted screens and started tapping on the controls. I walked to the other side and suppressed the stupid impulse to rip his robes off with the Force to get a look at his butt. Stupid hormones, stupid pheromones, stupid zeltrons.

He brought up an image of microscopic cell clusters, then zoomed in further to the internal mechanisms of those cells, showing their inner workings and organelles.

I spotted immediately what he was trying to show me. “Multifunction internal organelles, which adapt on the fly to changing conditions.” He nodded with a smoldering smile, another push of a button, it zoomed in to show the genetic structure. My eyes widened as I took it in. “This mutagenic factor is off the charts. Forget millions of years for evolutionary adaptation, this timeframe is merely years.”

“Precisely. We have had to change our decontamination agents and protocols four times already in the last six months, because the spores literally evolve against whatever we devise. As much as the clones are out there fighting, I’m in here fighting against the very biology of this planet, even as I try to study and use it.”

“The bota plant strengthens a Jedi’s connection to the Force, have you determined how?”

He nodded, then switched the image on the screen. “These are bota plant cells. Watch carefully.”

I focused on the numerous cell clusters displayed, trying to see anything odd or out of place…

The cells were just sitting there, doing what all cells did; consume food, deliver energy, get rid of waste products, divide… clearly use the Force to move in a microscopic equivalent of Force Speed?!

I resisted the urge to gape stupidly at the screen.

If these cells used the Force instinctually to perform their functions, then when they were ingested by a Force sensitive…

“This is safe?” I asked faintly.

“No negative side effects observed in any test subject, nor in long term simulations.”

“How many subjects have there been?”

“Eight Jedi, the team of five explorers who first discovered it. They are under long term monitoring at an undisclosed facility. Then three of us who are currently on Drongar with me serving as a control subject.”

“No differences in various species reactions?” I asked next.

“None so far, chalactan and alderaanian were the human variants, iktotchi, mirialan and a nautolan were the others.”

“What degree of improvement has been seen?”

“It’s naturally difficult to quantify the Force, despite the tests that exist. But so far, objective improvements have been measured in the strength of their Alter Environment and Internal Control powers. Stronger telekinesis and greater ability to affect change in their own person. One of the subjects even reported that they developed an affinity for telepathic connection which hadn’t been there at all beforehand.”

I pulled my gaze away from the screen and looked at Tedrad’s face. He was silently asking me a question in the mild handsome gaze and soulful eyes.

“You wish for me to be the ninth test subject,” I said aloud.

“While I don’t expect there to be any difference because of your species, you would be the first subject with a homeworld from the northern sectors of the galaxy. It’s a gamble but there might be a unique reaction. The chance of that is vanishingly small admittedly, but I’d not be a scientist if I didn’t take advantage of having you here.”

I pushed my senses down more probability lines, rather annoyed at how the number of embarrassing ones involving Tedrad in some way was increasing. Seeing those were steadily building up my own general horniness for lack of a better word and I would definitely have to ‘take care’ of myself when I found my assigned quarters down here. Making it worse, was that he was definitely picking up on my steadily increasing state of arousal.

Yeah, agree and get out of here, Ahoska, I grumbled to myself. Yet the other part of me wanted to stay and… nope… 

Grief, the guy was roughly nine years my senior and probably had all manner of people eventually fawning over him. He didn’t mind, given that he was zeltron, but I wonder how he reconciled his people’s general hedonistic ways with being a Jedi.

“Very well,” I coughed and cleared my throat uncomfortably. “How will it be administered?

He walked over another table and handed me a long thin box with a dozen small sealed bottles inside, each holding no more than fifty milliliters of a clear liquid that had a slight sheen.

“Orally, this is essentially bota tea. Except we didn’t dry the leaves out.”

“You boiled the leaves in the water, and the cells survived?”

“Quite happily, high temperatures actually encourage its processes.”

I nodded in understanding, “Blood sample as a control?”

“Yes, please, padawan.”

I put down the box and pulled my helmet off. A bit awkwardly threading my lekku out of it after I fumbled it a bit.

Tedrad simply smiled wider at seeing my face, clearly pleased by what he was seeing.

I struggled to control my tells, even as I offered my neck.

He picked up a hypo gun from a nearby table and placed the end on my neck. I felt a slight hiss and a thump on the skin there.

“Thank you, Padawan Tano. Drink the tea before every meal you eat.”

“I will,” I said quickly, putting my helmet back on and fumbling the thing again in my haste.

More haste, less speed, Ahsoka, I grumbled inwardly.

His expression didn’t vary one bit, but I knew he was slightly disappointed that I had covered my face up. I also realized he was using his racial empathy at this point - projecting his feelings. He felt that it was a pity I adhered to my Mandalorian customs to cover my face as much as possible. He thought it was beautiful, exotic and pretty.

I felt honestly flattered even if I wasn’t vain enough to take that to heart.

“Thank you, Knight Tedrad. I m- m- must be going.”

“Force be with you, Padawan Tano. Keep a close eye on yourself and document all changes you notice.”

I nodded and walked as fast as possible for the lab exit without seeming like I was fleeing the room.

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There was no problem in finding me an officer sized billet on base, in a collection of troop housing modules that were mostly empty.

I showered and took care of all my current necessities. Then I drank my first dose of bota tea with lunch I had grabbed from the local mess hall.

It would’ve been nice to just relax in my undies behind the small desk of these quarters, but there was still work to do today. 

I had a Juggernaut Tank to catch.

The giant fifty meter long, ten wheeled war machine was the only vehicle that could traverse the jungles and marshlands of Drongar with any reasonable speed. It was also the only way I could reach one of the other Jedi on the planet, who was assigned RMSU 5.

My investigation had to be thorough and I couldn’t just rely on interviewing a single Jedi. Anyone objective looking at a report solely based on that interview, would rightly be worried that a zeltron Jedi had unduly influenced me.

With M8 scanning the local network, I found the resupply schedule that had been drawn up for supplies being shuttled down to the surface and further distributed by Juggernauts to the various troop companies and field hospitals.

Juggernaut A634, a cargo transport refit, was due to leave in the afternoon for RMSU 5, which was currently located three hundred and twenty kilometers northwest from the HQ. A given estimated travel time was four hours under current conditions, assuming nothing went wrong.

“Mistress, I’ve encountered an anomaly in the local Republic data network,” M8 announced suddenly.

“Show me.”

M8 manipulated my armor’s hand to project a holo onto the desk.

It showed her own map of the local IT infrastructure; every desk terminal, linked datapad with a real time location, droid and industrial machinery. It was an exhaustively thorough map as typical of M8. She even listed temporary connections from Juggernaut tanks and shuttles.

The map zoomed in and a datapad was flagged that only temporarily connected itself once every day for just five seconds. The time of connection was random, but the five second duration was exact and stayed the same, down to the millisecond.

“That looks like an automated program running.”

“Yes, mistress. Seemingly normal, but there is no location data for it.”

“Now that is suspicious. The network wouldn’t accept any terminal access request if no geodata came with the request, yet it’s still happening. What else?”

“I scanned the broader network to find out why this acceptance was going through. There was an exception placed in the main data hub a few months after it was brought online, rather cunningly hidden in a background program operating at a kernel level. I’ve gone over the exception instruction with all my abilities and can find nothing hidden or encrypted. It indicates that it was authorized by Admiral Bleyd.”

“Why would he do that? He should have full access to the network anyway on any terminal,” I asked to myself, thinking hard. “Unless, he needed to give someone else clandestine access that couldn’t be normally traced. After all, who would think that an exploratory droid as fantastic as you would show up.”

“Mistress, if I were capable of blushing, I would be doing it.”

I chuckled, “Can you determine the data that’s being pulled during the five second window?”

“Bota plant harvesting schedule, storage, quantities and security.”

“Of course it is,” I said wryly. “Now why would the good admiral do such a thing? The simple answer would be that he wants someone else to have it. Someone who isn’t in the chain of command or ordinarily has no rights to that information. Now the question is who and how to find out?”

I bounced the thought around a bit in my mind, coming to a number of possibilities, none of which I liked.

“M8, I want you to inject a little extra coding into that exception.”

“With what purpose, mistress?”

“To report the location data, but still make it appear as if it’s not requiring that. Can you do that?”

“Yes, mistress. It’ll require a few minutes of computing cycles, for which I apologize.”

“What have I told you, M8?” I asked sternly.

“No apologies for not being as good as dedicated droids to a specific task?”

“You wear many hats, my friend.”

“I don’t wear hats, mistress,” she retorted cheekily.

I rolled my eyes at her intentional misunderstanding and tapped my comlink. “Tano to Resolute, I’m going to need some extra help down here.”

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“Welcome to Drongar everyone,” I said with sarcastic cheer.

The rain had downgraded itself from monsoon to a mild shower at this point, but conditions were still miserable. The rapid thunder of an electrical storm passing by the base on the horizon gave an ominous air to the afternoon, making it sound very much like an artillery barrage thumping into our ears and montrals.

Chewie's feet sank a few inches into the mud with every step and Ursa Wren’s squad of Mando Blades bore the planet’s discomfort with grim stoicism, but I sensed each one was a cloud of disgruntled annoyance.

The colossal form of Juggernaut Tank A634 towered over us, the assigned clone crew packing the last boxes of supplies into the rear hold by hand.

“Manda’lor,” Ursa greeted with a Mando salute.

I eyed the long forms of the Drongar slugthrower rifles and ammo backpacks slung on their backs, vibroblades and sonic pistols sheathed on their hips. “Did you get much practice with those?”

“We are barely adequate, manda’lor,” she answered stoically, but clearly unhappy. Barely adequate to Blade standards would probably pass muster in any number of spec ops forces from old Earth. 

“Good enough considering the circumstances, get on board and your warriors settled in.” I approached Chewie and the wookiee was not looking pleased being ensconced in the fully sealed Aegis he had worn in the oceans of Dac. “Sorry Chewie, but the spores on this world are not something you want nestling in all your hair. The chemical brew that would be required to clean you would be fatal and the only other option would be to shave you completely.”

“Can we go to a nice world next time?” he complained.

“I don’t decide these things, Chewie,” I chuckled. “Now come on, there’s a hospital unit and troops that badly need these supplies.”

We climbed the very steep embarkation ramp and entered the Juggernaut’s hold.

The only difference between the combat version and the transport versions of these tanks was the interior seats being stripped out to make room for pallets and boxes. We squeezed through the rows of these and approached an interior bulkhead door, before climbing into the cramped confines of the tank proper.

Poor Chewie had to walk rather severely hunched to make it through the narrow main central corridor of the tank. It usually had a crew of twelve excluding the gunners, but since we couldn’t use any of the heavy weapons there was no need for them.

The tiny command center of the tank was buried within the main hull, just behind the forward nose section. That was a slight misnomer though because the Juggernaut’s fore and aft were technically interchangeable.

There were drivers for the forward wheels and rear, depending on which direction the tank was moving itself.

Each tank had to be commanded by a major, given that you could potentially fit four companies of clones into it. That would be under normal circumstances. This mission requirement didn’t need such a high ranking clone though, so we only had a senior lieutenant in command.

“Welcome aboard Commander Tano,” Lt. CT-9430 or Dozer as he was commonly known, awkwardly stood up from his commander seat to salute me. Like all the clones on Drongar, his armor had wear and tear, but considerably less than what you’d expect.  

“Thank you, Dozer,” I returned the salute. “Shall we be underway?”

“At once, commander. Do you wish to take a seat in the commanding officer’s observation dome?”

“It’s not necessary, Dozer. I don’t need my eyes to be aware of what’s out there. Chewie and I will just take the foldout seats next to the map screen.” I jerked a thumb to the large screen in question.

“Understood, ma’am.”

“Also the Mandalorian Blades will position themselves near the upper hatch. They will act as our first rapid response force in case of an attack.”

“I’ll make sure my men don’t get in the way, commander.”

“That is all I ask. This is still your tank, lieutenant. Just think of me as the admiral of your land ship.”

Dozer felt slightly confused at first but quickly got it. “Right ma’am. Sergeant, start her up, slow and steady out the base.”

“Roger Lt,” said the clone driver, flicking a number of switches around his chair before grabbing a hold of a yoke steering column and a throttle.

The tank rumbled to life, its onboard reactor whining sharply before settling into a steady cadence. The forward wall of the command center was dominated with a high fidelity holoscreen showing a view of the road leading out of the base; everything seemed so small from this viewpoint.

The sergeant did a final check of his screens and readouts before putting hand onto the throttle and pushing forward slightly.

Juggernaut tank A634 released its brakes and began a slow 20kph roll forward.

Given the sheer mass and momentum involved, even that speed would be enough to utterly wreck any structure in the base if the driver made a mistake. That was thankfully not the case and the routes the Juggernaut took were well marked. The tank also had a distinctive warning alarm blaring outward to warn everyone that it was coming.

Tanks of this size also had to exit the base from a specific point in the barrier fence that was only secured by a shield, as the sheer size required of a physical gate was totally impractical. 

The tank surged forward up to 50 kph to clear through the deactivated shield zone as quickly as possible. Then turned slightly left to take a well worn route through the jungle that had been practically bulldozed by the passage of many Juggernauts over the months.

This meant our speed could increase to 90 kph with little issue and the only thing slowing us down was the variable gradients in the terrain. That benefit of speed naturally came with the drawback that the roads created by the tanks were very obvious and known to the enemy. The passage of a Juggernaut was not exactly stealthy in terms of visibility and noise.

My eyes turned to the sensor station and the crewman working there. The jungle on either side of the road was mostly below the upper hull of the tank, but on some stretches began to tower over it. It almost looked like a huge blocky whale swimming through a sea of green from above.

The scanners had quite a lot of trouble penetrating into the dense jungle, with the exception of laser and magnetic based scans. This let the tank at least see as far as the terrain allowed, which was rather hilly as you left the base in a north-westerly direction.

“All this, just for a plant,” Chewie growled uncomfortably. His fold out seat could barely hold him and reminded me of an adult trying to sit in a kiddie chair. He ended up having to support himself by pushing a hand against the ceiling of the cramped command center and tucking in his legs. The rocking and shaking of the tank was so bad now that I had to strap myself in at this point, due to the bad terrain we were wading through.

I didn’t fault Chewie for his grumbling, although he well knew what potential bota had if its secret could be unlocked and replicated for the whole galaxy. 

Whether that would happen was something that was still up in the air. Prescience showed me futures where it didn’t happen and others where it did, but only in a limited fashion. The events on this world were in a curious state of flux and it had something to do with the odd nature of the Force on Drongar.

It was a tantalizing mystery and puzzle wrapped up in a way that I understood why a Jedi scientist like Tedrad was fascinated by it.

My eyes pulled back to the immediate present and future.

I settled my head against the backrest and fell into a light meditation.

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Our journey continued for just over three hours in a similar fashion, until we emerged from a break in the continent-spanning jungle into an area known as the Jasserak Highlands.

The sightlines opened all the way to the horizon, but here the vegetation changed to a forest of strange alien fungal trees that grew for kilometers in every direction. The colors were a bizarre mix of blues, orange, purples and greens that looked like someone had been practicing splatter art when they had designed them. I also saw what had to be a fruit of some kind growing from the branches, which were being eaten by packs of dog-like mammals known as Rontu.

The transition from hill terrain to higher flats was also the ideal spot for an ambush but none occurred.

On any other world or battlefield, supply line attacks, ambushes and deep strikes in enemy territory were fair game.

Drongar was different in that there was no regular airborne transportation possible. Every asset you had that was made out of durasteel had to be carefully utilized. The tank we were using was only a few months old, but it looked like it had years of service under its belt. I didn’t envy the CIS having to keep a droid army in working order on this world. In that respect, the GAR had a long term advantage with its flesh and blood army of clones.

The tank could open up its throttle nicely now and began pushing speeds of 120 kph.

We crossed the Jasserak Highlands in just over one and a half hours, before dipping down into the lowlands again. 

It was here that I saw the first example of bota fields in nature.

A plant that stood at hip height, with a silvery-white flower, shaped like a teardrop on thin green stalk.

The field we were driving beside stretched for kilometers to our east, draped like a precious carpet over the earth. It swayed slowly in the breeze and shuddered with each drop of rain that landed on the flower.

Small hovering droids, shaped like spheres with tiny manipulator arms, were carefully tending to the field and a company of clone troopers on patrol duty was watching over them.

Even as I watched, I saw a droid shudder and fall as its small repulsor field failed to keep it airborne, its useful life expiring. Another droid stopped what it was doing and picked up its fallen comrade to carry it away from the field.

It was handed off to a clone tech waiting at the edge, who would try to repair it from the huge kit he lugged around on his back.

The bota field was left behind and the flora changed to eerie fields of what was called croaker bush. Named as such for the sound they made when the waxy leaves rustled against each other in the breeze.

We left the lowlands behind and plunged into the jungle again.

Our destination was close, the probability lines shifted and narrowed into certainty.

I tapped my comlink, “Ursa, two companies of droids, B2s, rapidly approaching from starboard. Lt. Dozer, go to combat alert.”

“Taking off now, manda’lor.”

Dozer slammed a button on his chair, and the tank’s internal lighting dimmed to dark red. “All right boys, get your sluggers and sonics locked and loaded!”

I unlatched the harness from my seat, ducked out of the command center and walked a few meters to the open upper hatch.

A quick jump and I landed outside on the upper hull of the tank, immediately ducking to prevent the rushing 80 kph wind from blowing me off.

My boot jets flared and I took to the air following Ursa’s presence in the Force.

By the time I landed among the Blades they were already engaged with the enemy.

They had formed a skirmish line using the trees as cover and the rapid concussion of slugthrowers from both sides echoed underneath the jungle canopy.

Most trees were thick enough to at least soak a few shots from the B2s, firing their own slugthrowers retrofitted onto their right arms. The beskar’gam could stand up to these bullets in our own testing, but it was not an experience that could just be shrugged off. The velocity and mass of the bullets still meant it was like getting a punch from HK when he was in a friendly mood and wanted your meatbag self to continue to entertain him.

A pair of my warriors were already down and receiving first aid from the squad medic behind the cover of the thickest tree. Only a passing thought was given to helping there, but I had the survival of the whole squad to consider.

Among the B2s I could already count fifteen destroyed, all from mass Whistling Bird launches, the smart munitions targeting sensor clusters and the ammunition packs on the rear of the B2s. Modern slugthrowers didn’t use what I’d call black powder or even nitrocellulose smokeless powder, for that you’d have to go to the guns of the Tusken Raiders on Tatooine. Instead it used two binary highly reactive chemical formulations that were forced together to produce the gas to propel the projectile. It delivered more energy but at the cost of being more volatile. Not that the droids or the CIS cared.

The result for the B2s was devastating.

Their rear armor wasn’t as thick as the frontal faces. A typical cost cutting measure from the CIS, who thought that the droids would always be facing their enemies anyway in most circumstances.

I pushed forward in a burst of Speed, dodging left and right as I moved to avoid slugs.

Then came to a stop in the skirmish line behind a thick tree, placing my hands on the soft jungle floor, the decaying plant matter crinkling between my fingers.

The Force surged as my perceptions connected with the matter around me, my will plunging into the earth.

Large sections of cover burst upwards with eruptions of moist loamy sand in front of my troops.

Without needing prompt or order, they immediately dived behind it, their large rifles roaring at the enemy, the large spent cartridge casings tinkling to the ground.

A B2 was hit by multiple rounds, the HESH projectiles erupted with brief flares of shaped explosions. Barely moments later it toppled forward as its internal components were thoroughly shredded with supersonic shrapnel bouncing around inside.

Seven others suffered similar fates simultaneously through the coordinated fire of the Blades.

The volume of fire from my troops slacked as they reloaded and slapped new magazines into the top loading weapons.

I bought them time by shooting every heavy rock and stone larger than a football I could gather from the ground around the enemy in kinetic strikes. Targeting the ammo packs of the B2s, I manage to kill seven in one barrage and foul the balance and aim of the others. My will also pulled on the ground underneath the B2s, causing a large number of them to topple backward.

The Blades didn’t waste the opportunity, their volleys of fire cutting down the enemy with merciless efficiency.

A full company of B2s were now destroyed but the second company behind them stepped over the wreckage of their brethren.

I delayed them further by taking inspiration from the actions of the cute furry bipeds on a certain forest moon.

Two trees that towered all the way up to the jungle canopy with thick trunks ruptured at their base in just the right way. A bit of TK to guide it and then I let gravity do the rest.

Eight B2s were crushed and hammered into the forest floor instantly.

This also doubled as a handy obstacle that the droids couldn’t climb over.

The Blades took immediate advantage, rushing forward and towards the new cover of fallen trees I had built for them.

A number of them raised their left arms to point upward and unleashed a Whistling Bird volley.

Hundreds of smart projectiles shot upwards, then turned over and dove for the approaching enemy.

The lethal rain of projectiles fell.

Seventeen B2s died in the next moment as the round drilled into the small vulnerable sensor clusters before detonating.

The Blades poked their large slugthrowers over the fallen tree and began firing.

When their magazines ran dry again, I repeated the same trick, crushing more droids with trees.

They vaulted over their cover, advancing forward again.

I brought down more trees, this time behind and to the side of the enemy.

Completely boxed in, the Blades poured fire into the remaining droids.

When the enemy numbers were whittled down to a bare handful, they stopped firing and six Blades ignited their jetpacks.

Vibroblades were drawn and they descended on the droid remnant with fairly impressive Falling Avalanche attacks.

To aid in this I launched a volley of rocks that fouled the B2s gun arms, pushing them out of position.

Vibroblades cleaved through armor with discordant shrieks of tortured metal and sparks of shorting energy played over the B2’s forms.

The remaining Blades joined their comrades in the kill box I had built and drew their swords to finish off the enemy.

I rose from my kneeling position, normalizing my senses and hurried back to the medic.

One of the injured was out of the woods and leaning back against a tree, but the other Blade was clearly in a worse state.

“What’s the problem?” I asked, kneeling down next to the prone warrior.

The medic had already removed the beskar breastplate and had applied a number of bacta patches to the abdomen. 

“Three ribs are fractured badly, manda’lor. If he’s moved, it risks puncturing his left lung.”

I placed a hand on the shoulder pauldron of the warrior. M8 helpfully began showing me detailed scans of the man and his name. “We’ll get you out of here, Strist.”

“Y- y- yes, manda’lor,” he acknowledged through what was a considerable amount of pain.

My senses plunged into him and I immediately perceived what the medic had already scanned. Three displaced fractures directly where a bullet had struck and violently deformed the beskar plate. I immediately numbed that area, then with precision began carefully pushing the bones to realign into their proper places, carefully keeping the edges away from the lung underneath.

I grabbed calcium and other materials from his bloodstream, then began applying the Force itself to hyper accelerate a healing process that would normally take weeks. Even with that I only managed to create a patch job that would at least keep things together and remove the danger of the bones slicing his lung.

“He can move, but only carefully. You can reattach the plate. No deep breaths Strist and no flying, understood?”

“Yes, manda’lor. Thank you, manda’lor.”

I stood and tapped my comlink, “Ursa, you’re close enough to RMSU 5 for the squad to walk there. Strist and Shebba are in no condition to fly. Standard data salvage procedures from the droids. I’ll return to the tank.”

“Understood, manda’lor.”

I stood and took off at a running pace for the road.

When I had open sky above me again, my boot jets flared and I streaked into the air to follow in the wake of the Juggernaut.

Barely a few minutes of flight later, I brought my legs forward and flared my body to shed speed.

Tank A634 had already stopped at RMSU 5 and I used it as a convenient landing pad.

A fully deployed RMSU covered roughly the same amount of space as a football field, with the juggernaut tank chassis forming the central basis. Since they didn’t have to worry about aerial attack, they had bulldozed the jungle away to form an open clearing for the field hospital.

Clones and med personnel were already moving up and down the tank’s ramp to unload the new supplies, but it was also clear we had arrived in the aftermath of an attack on the nearby bota field and RMSU 5 itself.

Dozens of wounded clone troopers were being triaged in the open and to the north I could see the inert wreckage of B1 and B2 droids being policed and scanned by troopers.

“Ahsoka!”  

Chewie’s distinctive call came from the forward hatch of the tank as he climbed out onto the upper hull.

“Hey, Chewie, everything went relatively well here?”

“We arrived just as they came under attack, our reinforcement helped.”

“Good, any casualties among the tank crew?”

"One dead, three injured.”

That was the problem with firing slugthrowers from the Juggernaut. The only way was to shoot out of the forward and aft vision slits and open the armored transparisteel windows in them. Making everyone in those sections vulnerable.

“Master Jedi!”

My interlocutor waved up at me from the ground next to the tank.

I gave a nod to Chewie before jumping off the side and landing softly next to the armored figure carrying a helmet under his arm.

He was a middle-aged human and despite wearing a weather beaten set of Phase 1 clone armor, had patterns and insignia of a colonel on his collar, including the medical services insignia. 

He gave me a crisp salute after seeing my own naval rank. “Colonel D’Arc Vaetes.”

“Commander Ahsoka Tano,” I returned the salute.

“Pleasure to meet you, commander. I take it you’re leading the Mandalorian Blades that just saved our supplies and stopped us from being caught in a pincer.”

“That I am, colonel.” 

His prematurely graying mustache twitched with annoyance as the ever present rain became a monsoon again. The man had his head completely shaved and he held up the helmet to shield it briefly, before putting it on again.

“Thank you, commander. Now to what do I owe the visit of an elite unit to my lowly command?” he asked with a wry dash of self-deprecation.

“I need to speak to the Jedi you have stationed here.”

“She’s elbow deep in blood and guts in the theater wards, commander.”

“I’m in no particular hurry and can wait. The Blades have two wounded as well.”

“We’ll see to them here, commander.”

“Thank you. In the meantime, I offer my own healing services to your command.”

Vaetes titled his head, intrigued, “You’re as qualified as the Jedi healer we have?”

I nodded. Undoubtedly the healer would be more experienced than me, but my training in Mortis under Bendu’s tutelage had covered a lot of the gaps I had as a result of my own aborted time in the Halls of Healing.

“Then follow me.”

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I was put to work immediately in the triage ward.

It was a module attached to the main body of the RMSU, space was cramped and it almost felt like I was attending to a conveyor line of the wounded and dying. Most of the personnel were human nurses and doctors from core world regions, with a sprinkling of other races; pantoran, rodian, twi’lek and sullustan. They bustled to and fro from patient to patient, having to talk loudly and even shout over the roar of the rain outside. Med droids hovered in the air, carrying trays of medications, tools and in some cases even working alone on a patient.

Vaetes assigned me a nurse by the name of Kols Sonnu, a chalactan with light coffee colored skin and deep brown hair, worn in the traditional hooped braids of their people. Her medical grade skinsuit was stained with blood over her chest, but the antisepsis fields bathing everything in a soft yellow light made things much easier in that respect. She was my assistant and minder, but I also sensed the colonel had assigned her to me to make sure I could walk my talk.

My first patient was a clone who had just been brought in with a lower abdominal gut shot and he was screaming something fierce.

I placed my hand on his sweating forehead and I immediately deadened the pain.

“Easy trooper, easy,” I soothed, as he calmed down.

The bullet had been slowed down by his armor, but it now meant he had a fat lump of deformed lead sitting in his lower intestines and it had made an awful mess in there.

“Sonnu, you can go ahead.”

She nodded and immediately began pulling away the lower extremities of the trooper’s armor, dumping it on the floor next to the bed, where a cleaner droid immediately took it away.

“Slug’s coming out.”

The deformed piece of metal rose out of the wound like a bizarre reverse birth and floated out in the air. I had already pinched off bleeding with invisible TK fingers and was rearranging the intestines to a natural position and also gathering all the leaked digestive offal into a lump. Sonnu grabbed the bullet and dropped it to the floor, then waited with a silver tray and began scooping the offal I was pushing out. It was stained black with blood and not a pretty sight to look at but Sonnu didn’t blink. The organic body could clearly no longer disgust her.

Next step, I had to cut away some of the damaged intestine and reattach it, effectively shortening the trooper’s digestive tract by thirteen centimeters in the process.

A cut could be achieved by rubbing two small planes of kinetic force against each other, effectively creating an ethereal blade or scissor.

The damaged intestines also eventually emerged.

“Stitching please. Unroll it to a length of twenty-three centimeters.”

Sonnu did so and another TK blade cut it. It zoomed out of her hand and began inserting itself into the wound.

This delicate work took nearly nine minutes of intense concentration as I sewed the biological plumping together and any veins, stemming any possibility of internal bleeding. I laced an infusion of the Force into the cells that had to grow back together to encourage rapid localized healing.

I looked over the work, feeling satisfied that this was as good as it was going to get. He would be stable for now. Using the Force, I teased the sinew, diaphragm, muscle and skin around the gaping wound to close.

She gave a final scan with a handheld scanner to satisfy herself before bringing the bacta patch forward and placing it over the wound. It affixed itself painlessly onto the skin, going tight and beginning to release and circulate precious bacta over the wound.

“Next!”

The bed itself moved away from its position, hovering backward into a dedicated channel to move the patient to a recovery wing deeper in the RMSU.

It would be just the first of eighteen patients I would attend to. Some were easy, others were harder.

None died.

Though that was more because anyone who could reach the RMSU generally had survivable injuries. Deaths happened in the field on Drongar, not in the hospitals.

When the last patient hovered out of the triage ward over an hour later, I found a seat and wearily deposited myself in it. 

I had forgotten how mentally draining it could be to work in the healing business. Another reason why I didn’t persevere in it. It felt like you were doomed to be Sisyphus, constantly rolling his boulder up the hill only for it to roll back.

“Commander? You all right?” Sunna asked with concern.

“Yes, thank you-”

“Ahsoka?”

The familiar voice came from the door to the triage ward.

I looked up and smiled wearily, belatedly realizing my helmet wouldn’t allow her to see my expression. I disengaged the seals, pulled it off and rested it on my lap.

“Hello Barriss.”

I was now as technically as old as she was and I could tell from her expression that it clearly startled her. My Jedi peer had clearly ditched her Mirilian formality in the face of conditions on Drongar. She had a dark blue overall on, that looked more fitting for a starship mechanic and over that she was wearing a cut down Jedi robe.  

“Thank you, Sunna,” I smiled, meeting the nurse’s eyes pointedly.

She got the hint and bowed her head formally, before retreating out of the ward.

I stood and looked down on Barriss Offee as she calmly and serenely approached me. She waited until the nurse was gone before abruptly throwing herself forward, catching me in a hug. I sensed her sheer relief at seeing a familiar face again. Someone who wasn’t associated with this hellish world. I sensed that the trials she had endured here had left clear scars on her psyche.

My appearance was a lifeline and was clearly soothing her spirit.

For a very long twenty odd seconds we remained like that and I let her heal in a way that was more important than the body.

She found her composure again and stepped backward out of the hug, awkwardly wiping away a tear from her left eye, feeling ashamed, “Sorry. What you must think of me, losing control like this.”

"You have nothing to apologize for, Barriss.”

She nodded, but then I sensed her resolve something within herself. She grabbed my hand, pulling me away. “Come, let’s go to the cantina and you can tell me why and how you are practically my age.”

I chuckled and let it happen. “Well, I hope you don’t have somewhere urgent to be. It’s a long, convoluted tale.”

“That’s good, means we can buy more drinks.”

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend. (It just started raining over my head as I typed this, completely out of season :-0 )

The Force Wills - Chapter 87

The endless soothing sound of waves crashing and rushing up a beach.

Sunshine from two suns, moderated by both distance and atmosphere.

The pleasant warm tingling of it on every inch of my skin that wasn’t covered by the Hapan sling microkini.

Lying back on a wooden deck chair in a sheltered spot on the small resort island on Dac, with no one besides Anakin and Padme - who were busy enjoying a beach on the other side - and Chewie exploring the forested interior.

The Force sang to me on this island of pristine beauty.

Bliss.

After dealing with seemingly non-stop crises, battles and worries since the emergence from Mortis, it was a wonder to just… stop and relax.

The gift was given to us by King Lee-Char, who ordered the island resort opened for our sole use for a full week.

That there actually were such islands was a pleasant surprise but obvious in retrospect. Dac had land but they were all pearl-like strands of islands and archipelagos, which accounted for barely two percent of the surface. The Mon Calamari developed them primarily as holiday destinations for landwalkers, but always built around the islands to keep them as untouched as possible for the benefit of the very rare land and air fauna that had evolved on the planet.

I pulled the lever on my chair, carefully lowering it to a flat position and turned around onto my stomach for the suns to catch my back.

Bliss again.

Made even more so by the fact that Master Koon had chased the CIS completely out of the system with their tail between their legs. The Providence carrier had escaped by the skin of its teeth, with enough damage that would see it in drydock for months and only half a squadron of Munificents in tow. The rest of the CIS fleet, destroyed or disabled. It would take months to clean up the orbital spaces of the Mon Cala system.

I focused and banished all thoughts of the war.

“Relax, Ashoka,” I muttered aloud to myself.

Bliss.

Five minutes of tanning later I turned around, pulled up the backrest of the chair and let my front catch some rays again.

Out of a nearby bag I pulled out a pair of sunglasses that pinched my nose to stay in place and a datapad.

My mind promptly fell into the novel by a local writer Mhashe Grugra.

In a galaxy where space travel was routine and the wonders of the cosmos readily accessible, there wasn’t something you could readily define as ‘science fiction.’ The closest you got was stories that featured adventures to neighboring and distant galaxies. Mon Cala being on the north-eastern edge of the Corusca Galaxy, with its own telescopes being able to see the vast infinite cosmos in that direction, often inspired local writers into fantastical exogalactic adventures and fiction.

Grugra was the foremost writer of such exogalactic fiction on Mon Cala and his imagination was truly something special to read.

Exotic races based on fantastical elements, some even existing beyond four dimensional space, he even imagined beings who lived entirely in hyperspace.

The latter had some basis in fact, as the space dwelling whale-like lifeforms called purrgils could actually use hyperspace to travel between stars in migratory patterns. They could be a navigational hazard, but their migratory patterns were well documented over thousands of years of observation and navicomputers were programmed to avoid them.

It was nevertheless a fun and enjoyable read; following a group of Republic scientists who had magically stumbled upon an economical and practical method of hyperspace travel through the vast empty void between galaxies. It was a one-way trip and most of the story centered around finding a way to recreate the conditions in the new galaxy and essentially building a ‘hyperbridge’ back to the Corusca galaxy.

Naturally, the locals didn’t like that idea and opposed the scientists, in both peaceful and violent manner depending on the race.

Given that a Mon Calamari was the author, he always found ways to resolve these conflicts through some cleverness, trick or outwitting the ‘bad guys’ and very rarely was a blaster ever fired in defense by the Republic scientists. The story only briefly mentioned a Mon Cala Jedi Master from the Explorer Corps that had joined the expedition, who had been killed during the events which led to the expedition leaving the galaxy.

I really didn’t know how to feel about that. I could already imagine many scenarios where having a Jedi along would’ve helped in the story, but that was probably the point the author was trying to make. It almost reminded me of the Foundation series from Isamov.

My chrono chirped a one hour alarm.

From my bag I pulled out a bottle of Mon Cala made sunscreen to reapply a new layer. Unlike those I remembered from my previous life, these worked perfectly and were tailored to the specific radiation that the local suns released. You could stay indefinitely outside as long as you remembered to renew the application.

I was halfway through the book by the time my stomach told me it was time for lunch.

I gathered all my things into the bag and began the lazy eight hundred meter walk along  the beach back towards the holiday cabins that were erected on stilts out on the nearby calm sea.

The beach sand wriggled and crunched between my toes and I adjusted my walk to let the waves constantly lap at my feet in their constant back and forth motion, cooling them down nicely.

I reached the boardwalk and walked the short distance over the sea to the rounded white cabins that lined each side. I wasn’t entirely sure what they were made of, but it seemed to be an imported wood lining the interior with some form of superalloy protecting the exterior from surface storms - which became practically super-storms given there was hardly any land to disperse them on Dac’s surface.

We had chosen the closest cabin to the beach to become a communal area, whilst we each picked another for private use.

Once inside, I was again assaulted by the dual appearance of Padme in a bikini and Anakin only in swimming shorts, seated at the small bar. 

Chewie was already eating his mass of food at the kitchen table, whilst the culinary droid was busy preparing food for the two humans and one togruta separately.

“Ah, Ahsoka, just in time,” Padme smiled softly, looking up from an actual bound book.

“Hey,” I greeted lazily, my mouth immediately watering as I picked up the scents from the food. “So, three days in this little paradise and nothing has interrupted it. It’ll be a miracle if we can get to six.”

“And you haven’t even cheated yet, Snips?” Anakin asked with a half-smirk, referring to my foresight.

“No, not once,” I said emphatically, also taking a seat at the bar.

“Good. Our stay here is backed by the king and any interruption of his gift to us would be a major diplomatic issue.” He poked Padme in the shoulder. “Even stopped this one from trying to sneak in some work on a datapad.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a pointed look in reply.

Anakin rolled with the punch promising some future retaliation. He retorted with something along their own bond that had Padme nearly blushing. Her own training could prevent such tells, but it said something that she had relaxed enough to allow this one through.

“How’s the food, Chewie?”

The tall wookiee swallowed his latest mouthful. “Surprisingly good for alien seafood. I should see if I can’t download the recipe from this droid for my wife to try.”

“I’m just amazed we can actually eat anything local. The Mon Cala do have imports for their offworld visitors, but the stuff is standard agriworld fare.” Togruta could generally eat sea life from Shilli’s rivers, but the oceans were another story entirely. Luckily, culinary droids had inbuilt bio scanners that immediately determined what was safe to eat for anyone it was preparing food for. It’s report that I could safely eat from Dac’s oceans was a pleasant surprise.

“Lunch is served, honored guests,” the droid droned, using two of its four manipulator arms to deliver the plates of steaming food onto the kitchen table.

Anakin and Padme immediately got up to tuck in, whilst I was forced to wait for the finishing touches to my own dish.

It was just a few minutes more though and I grabbed the plate from the droid to join the table.

A wonderful, companionable silence settled on us as the only thing that was heard was the constant soothing background of breaking waves on the beach, the tinkling of cutlery and the occasional restrained burp from either me or Chewie.

The food was as delicious as it smelled, with surprising textures and tastes that had an amazing dimension to them. The taste seemed to evolve in my mouth - from the initial taste of a spicy zing that became a mellow note of mildness that reminded me of curry, then fading to a soft ocean aftertaste that pleasantly lingered on my palate.

I had half a mind to abduct this droid and take him with me everywhere. He’d have a place of honor on the Resolute, the instant the troopers there had a taste. If the droid could make this miracle out of seemingly standard fare on Dac, then he’d be able to do something to help the kitchen on the star destroyer.

Anakin and Padme finished first and both left the cabin immediately for their afternoon snuggle session.

Of course, Chewie knew all about those two being an item. You couldn’t hide that from a wookiee nose. He had also picked up on my own predicament. His initial suggestion that I fight Anakin in an honor duel for Padme was rather humorous but clearly came from a wookiee point of view. When I explained the impossibility and complexity his own response was honest bafflement, a roll of his eyes and a single scoffed word: “Aliens.” The fact that Anakin and Padme also had to hide their marriage had the wookiee throwing up his arms in exasperation.

I blinked as my wool gathering was interrupted by him.

“Would it be such a bad thing?” he asked me, after the couple had walked a suitable distance away. I knew what he meant, reached out with the Force and switched off the culinary droid.

“As long as the CIS is at war with the Republic, yes. She already has a rather large target on her back due to her actions when she was queen of Naboo. As a senator, that has only got worse due to the number of plots she’s foiled. There’s also the warhawk faction within the Senate that would like nothing more than to make this a ‘scandal’ that would destroy her credibility. Anakin, on the other hand, would gladly leave the Jedi Order if they forced things. However, it would remove him from the GAR and the fight to protect the Republic, and by extension, Naboo and his wife.”

“There are times I understand the reasoning of some of my people, who wish to keep the greater galaxy at arm’s length.”

I simply nodded in agreement with the sentiment. It was something I occasionally found myself imagining as well. Just finding some forgotten rock somewhere in the galaxy to settle down in and giving the finger to everything.

“It’s tempting, but that is the path of isolation. A blade that doesn’t encounter the friction of the whetstone becomes dull and loses its edge. It becomes useless. In terms of life, we become stagnant and with that comes death. That’s why I consider that impulse and longing for isolation to actually come from the Dark Side.”

Chewie gave me a strange look and I sensed he was rather nostalgic and melancholy for some reason. He sat back after finishing the last bite of his plate and had the wookiee version of a smile on his wooly face.

“Your words make me feel as if I’m back around the campfire with Master Jinn.”

I nearly choked on my mouthful of fish as those words perked in my brain. “Excuse me? You mean Qui-Gon Jinn? You knew him?”

Chewie nodded, “He helped my father set up the wookiee colony on Alaris Prime in Kashyyyk, which my extended family and tribe was a part of. We eventually returned the tribe to the homeworld when the colony was standing on its own two feet.”

“Did he have a padawan with him?”

“Yes, but the padawan didn’t come on the colonization mission.”

“Well, I feel rather flattered you’re comparing me to Master Jinn, but I’m far from the man’s wisdom, Chewie,” I disagreed.

The wookiee just chuckled and got up with his empty plate, leaving me to my thoughts and the last dregs of my food.

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The resort was set up with quite a few physical activities to partake in.

Surfing was one of them, though the surfboards had their own repulsors and you didn’t need to ride the waves if you didn’t want to. You could just point the nose of the board in whatever direction and go, though it did take a bit of practice to learn control with just your feet and keep your balance.

We had races around the island and naturally Anakin always won them. The only excitement in them being who got second place.

I was also sorely tempted to introduce them to the sport of volleyball. The resort even had a beach football zone and it would be quite easy to approach one of the maintenance droids to set up a basic net on poles. What sort of resort would be worth the name if it didn’t have volleyball?

That sort of thinking came from my previous life. Pulling an entire sport out of my ass was a bit on the nose and while both Anakin and Padme knew at this point, I had yet to tell Chewie.

So I contented myself with playing beach football against the others.

We played in rotating team matchups, starting with Anakin and Padme against me and Chewie.

The wookiee’s long legs were quite an advantage and his kicks were powerful enough that only Anakin dared intercept them with a bit of strength buffing from the Force. Chewie wasn’t nimble or quick on his feet and Anakin could practically dance the ball around the wookiee. He couldn’t dribble around me though as I shamelessly cheated with my superior prescience. Whenever I competed with Padme though, I made sure to keep things even.

The matchup that on paper should’ve been a curbstomp was actually the most interesting to see; Anakin and I versus Padme and Chewie.

We agreed to not use any Force abilities and the wookiee’s superior physicality let him practically bulldoze through us, setting up Padme with her deceptively nimble grace to score goal after goal. The only thing holding her back was her comparative lack of stamina.

“Yes, I’ll get working on that,” she gasped, clutching the stitch in her side as she sat down at the sidelines.

“Too much sitting around in meetings and your Senate office,” Anakin remonstrated her in good spirit, pointing a finger at her.

“If you can find me the time to get some exercise in, I’d gladly do it,” she retorted with a single arched eyebrow.

“Get yourself a desk that you can raise and stand behind, put a portable treadmill underneath,” I said absently as I jogged back with the ball.

“An interesting idea, Ahsoka, certainly,” Padme smiled at me. “It’s not practical because I never know when I’m going to be called into a critical meeting and I can’t go into them all sweaty and out of breath.”

“True, but have it there for when you can be reasonably certain, such as late at night. When I find you a Matukai master or failing that, some teachings, then you’ll be that much more ready for it.”

“You’re still determined that I should learn that?”

“If you say no, Padme, then it’s no. I just think-”

She raised a hand and that damn sexy smile of hers to interrupt me. “I fully understand, Ahsoka. You don’t have to repeat yourself on the feats they are capable of. My husband is also rather insistent on the idea.”

I gave Anakin a look.

“Hey, anything that can give her an edge against our enemies is good in my book, Snips. As much as I wish it were otherwise, we can’t always be there to protect her.”

“Now, Chewie, let’s give these two Jedi some space,” Padme patted the sand next to her for the wookiee to sit down. “Both of you, one on one, going all out.”

Anakin and I couldn’t stop our chuckles at the thought of that.

“No high levels of Speed, for the sake of our audience,” I said immediately to Anakin with a pointed finger.

“Fair enough, what about the ball? It’s just going to turn into a war of Control, otherwise.”

“Fine, no TK on the ball. We’d probably end up shredding it to pieces anyway.”

I put the ball down in the center of the beach court and stood with my foot on it. Then gave Anakin a mild smile and stared him down as he came to a stop a few meters from me.

We couldn’t do our usual approach of fighting each other with precog in the future, since we had an audience to entertain.

My feet didn’t exactly blur, but I was probably making a few football stars green with envy as my feet gripped the ball, then lobbing and spinning it precisely so it went up behind my back and over both our heads.

A Force empowered jump, tucking into a somersault right over his head let me clear his blocking attempt as I chased the ball.

The beach sand ate up all the momentum it would’ve had on a standard turf, but I managed my landing right next to the ball, immediately giving it a kick straight into the back of the goal net.

“One, nil, to me,” I smirked.

“Ataru as applied to football, interesting,” he chuckled.

Anakin retrieved the ball and this time he had the kick-off. 

Despite his adherence to Djem So’s solid foundation, he showed he was no slouch in the acrobatics department either.

He kept the ball at his feet, powering against my attempt to tackle it off him. He snuck it right between my legs, flipped over my shoulder in a sideways somersault and a single kick later, scored in the goal.

“One all,” he grinned.

With that we continued to delight our audience with what could be called Ataru Jedi football. Though I was also taking a little bit of inspiration from my memories of Shaolin Soccer.

Both Padme and Chewie cheered when I managed to set up and score with a reverse somersault kick.

Not to be outdone, Anakin practically hovered over me to header the ball into the net.

We kept trying to one up the other with more and more outrageous feats of dexterity, ball control and acrobatics.

The afternoon was finished off with both of us trying to tackle the ball in mid-air and even fighting for it with our feet as we kept ourselves airborne for as long as possible, using the Force to lighten ourselves and throwing low level Pushes against the ground to stay up there.

Of course, Anakin won that contest of Force endurance and he robbed me of the ball when I had to obey the law of gravity. 

“32, 30,” he declared, breathing somewhat heavily.

“I concede defeat,” I gasped, leaning on my knees.

He patted me reassuringly on the back. “That was amazing though, Snips. Well done. It wasn’t training but with that level of control, I’m sure you’ll easily push yourself to level seven or even eight in the Temple Training Room.” 

“I’ve honestly not even thought about that for subjective years at this point, Skyguy.”

“Well, when we get back to Coruscant I want you to try. It’s one more argument for you eventually taking knighthood trials. Yes, I know you don’t want it while the enemy is watching, but you must also think beyond him at some point, Snips.”

“Understood, Master,” I said sincerely.

“Good. Now let’s all go cool off with a swim.”

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On the evening of the fifth day of our royal holiday, the galaxy decided it had granted us enough peace.

I was lying on my bed in my cabin, about to fall asleep when the secure datapad which kept me connected to the Fulcrum network started beeping for my attention.

With a thought, it flew from my bag across the room to land in my hand. Then I went through the rather laborious security measures, key code, key phrase and a self-scan to verify it was actually the living DNA of Ahsoka Tano holding it before it was finally unlocked.

The small holo of HK-47 appeared.

“Perfunctory greetings: Hello master.”

“HK,” I greeted, sitting up in my bed. “I won’t bother asking if you know what the time here is on my little corner of Dac. So please, what’s going on?”

He replied with just three words, “Answer: Dark Jedi.”

My stomach lurched as he used the simple phrase. There was only one question now, “Who?”

“Answer: Master Sora Bulq.”

I kneaded my forehead as I considered the implications of that. This was going to hit the Jedi Order like an asteroid. Bulq was a veteran of the Geonosis arena. He was a blade master of supreme renown and had helped Mace Windu in his refinement of the Vaapad blade techniques. There were very few Jedi alive today who hadn’t been in Master Bulq’s lightsaber class in the academy. The weequay Jedi Master was a recognized master of all primary forms of saber combat and was also on his way to a mastery of Vaapad.

“How did it happen?”

“Explanation: Bulq was seen in the company of Count Dooku himself as both led an attack on a Republic Acclamator assault ship VCD987. The ship was on its way to the Drongar system to deliver relief and reinforcements for the fighting occurring on the planet.”

I quickly tapped the datapad to bring up the planet data in question.

Drongar was a planet merely a single sector away from Mon Cala, also on the very edge of the galaxy. It was hardly a strategic point at all, except for what the planet just so happened to produce. It was the reason why the Republic and CIS had been fighting for it since nearly the start of the war.

It was home to an extremely rare plant species known as bota. That only grew on the planet and decayed rapidly once it left the biosphere unless it was carbon frozen. Even then it rapidly lost its potency over five days.

Looking at its effects, I could only conclude that we were looking at something either the Rakatans engineered or even the Celestials. It was somehow a medicinal for every species that took the refined form of plant, combining the effects of a perfect antibiotic, antipyretic, narcotic, soporific and a stimulant. If anyone Force sensitive took it, it also gave them a far stronger connection to the Force.

It was quietly discovered by Jedi explorers just a few months before the Clone Wars had broken out. The Council kept their silence and didn’t go out of their way to announce the discovery either. They were rather justifiably concerned it would trigger a gold rush of legitimate and illegitimate interests. Given how far out on the Rim the planet was, it was unlikely that any edicts from the Republic could be properly enforced regarding bota. The correct conclusion was reached that it would be swiftly taken over by a criminal syndicate, either the Hutts or the Black Sun.  

Naturally, its existence was leaked to Dooku and the CIS via Palpatine’s own eyes and ears in the Temple. When the Clone War broke out, both sides rushed towards Drongar and it had been a low level battleground ever since.

What made it even more unique was that the fighting was only done with vibroswords, staffs, sonics and the occasional slugthrower, since anything else risked the very thing they were fighting over - the fragile bota plants. It was clone versus droid in melee combat in skirmishes across the planet, since both sides had to carefully consider when to actually risk taking casualties. Even the CIS war machine struggled to send droids to the planet given how much higher priority battlespaces required.

Yet now, when the Republic finally managed to send reinforcements, Dooku and Bulq intervened personally, attacking the Acclamator in the neighboring Pakuuni system. Three Jedi knights had been on board as well, two were captured whilst the third managed to escape to bring word back of Bulq’s betrayal.

Something in Jedi Kai Justiss’s report and the whole thing didn’t gel to me.

“When did the attack happen?”

“Answer: Two standard days ago, master.”

I brought up Bulq’s service record in the war and besides being in the battle that started it all, in which he lost his padawan to the overwhelming fire of the battle droids in that fateful arena, there was curiously little to note. Rather strange for one of the premiere blade masters of the Order. He had also been presumed dead after his evacuation gunship was shot down, but he returned to Coruscant with a critically injured Jedi Master Tholme three months later.

He declared himself unfit for war after having lost his padawan and so many other friends and students in the Geonosis arena, then went into seclusion.

It was only when Tholme awoke a few weeks later that it emerged that the master had essentially gone rogue to hunt for Dooku himself and that he had recruited Bulq to do so. They had fought Dooku without success. Darth Tyranus had defeated them relatively easily.

Yet now, after ten months or so, Bulq emerges from his seclusion as an acolyte of Dooku? With not a single indication from Republic Intel or other sources that he was a traitor. It was theoretically possible…

Ten months of training under Dooku, I thought.

There were only so many hours in a day and Dooku had an entire war to run across a galaxy. He couldn’t afford to let someone of Bulq’s prowess to go on a bloody training camp in the middle of nowhere. Bulq didn’t need more training. If he fell to the Dark Side he’d just need a few days of pointers from Dooku and the ball would be rolling. Then the first thing Dooku would’ve done was…

“I don’t buy it,” I said looking at HK with a mild glare.

HK chuckled, “Admiration: Very good, Master. Explanation: Dooku wanted to create a highly placed double agent in the ranks of the Jedi. As typical of Sith, he doesn’t trust his master to give him the full intelligence picture of what is happening in the Jedi Temple. Bulq’s treachery was already revealed to Mace Windu, when the meatbag attempted to engineer a schism in the Jedi Order, four months after the Battle of Geonosis.”

“And Windu and the Council kept it quiet because it would be a hammerblow that could shatter the Order, which was already going through an ideological schism because of the war.”

A schism that was still ongoing between the orthodox faction and Master Depa Billaba’s moderates. Bulq’s now public fall to the Dark Side and its ripples was going to be interesting to see among the two sides. Not to mention the reaction from the Senate, GAR and the general public as well.

The Order wouldn’t shatter now, given that a new equilibrium had been almost reached as the Jedi got used to their wartime role, somewhat bearing out the wisdom of keeping the whole affair quiet. The consequences would still be something to carefully watch out for now.

“Observation: It seems that now Dooku at least has a replacement for Ventress.” 

“True and a much more capable one. For all her skill and power, she was relatively young. Bulq fallen to the Dark Side makes for a much more experienced and formidable foe.”

With reluctance I opened myself to the future probability lines.

HK waited patiently.

The problem with fighting Palpatine and his schemes was that it was much like fighting the ancient hydra. Cut off one head, more will regrow in its place.

Bulq in the grand scheme was just another tool. I could see him being used in a number of future battles, plots, assassinations and even the raising of another clone army of Morkugai warriors - a sect of Nikto who were specialized in hunting down and killing Force sensitives.    

Take him out of the equation, Dooku finds another to continue the work. The number of Jedi falling to the Dark Side or sensitives being trained in secret by Palpatine was only growing.

Yet there were two events that were giving me pause.

“HK,” I said grimly.

“Eager Anticipation: Yes, master?”

“Go do what you do best.”

“Eager Query: Is there any method that you would prefer, master?”

“Our enemies must not suspect anything; it must seem accidental.”

“Mild Disappointment: Not my favorite method, Master, but I do find those most humorous and entertaining on occasion, especially if it’s delivered with a hint of irony.”

“Don’t go too out of your way to make it so, HK. Then it becomes suspicious. There can be no doubt in the enemy’s mind.”

“Acknowledgement: Very well, Master. Query: Anything else?”

“Just to compliment you for your work for Bel Iblis on Corellia. Flawless stuff. Well done.”

“Preening acceptance: Why thank you, master. It warms my non-existent heart.”

The Black Sun and Pyke Syndicate were both functionally dead on Corellia now, with scattered remnants hiding in the ancient sewers. Both organizations pulled out after mauling each other in a brutal shadow war orchestrated by HK and Bel Iblis, with a little background help from me in masterminding which dominoes to push and when. The Hutts would fill the void left in Corellia’s underworld. A more palatable, stable arrangement, since they were eminently more predictable and had a vested interest in organized crime and business. They were more symbiotic rather than the parasitic leeches of the Black Sun and Pykes.

“Now get cracking, you have two months.”

"Acknowledgement: Understood Master. Logging you out.”

I cut the link, secured the datapad and put it onto my bed stand. Snuggling back into my bed properly.

The sweet oblivion of sleep claimed me minutes later.

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Our diplomatic holiday ended with King Lee-Char himself fetching us with a shuttle. Whereupon Anakin, General Tarpals and myself were awarded honorary knighthoods in the Mon Cala Guard.

There would’ve been a whole big ceremony about it, but the people of Dac were a bit too busy. Retooling a quarter of your galaxy-famous shipyards to produce a new kind of warship would do that to a people.

Our paths would immediately diverge when we were delivered to the newly arrived Resolute.

Padme had to leave with the star destroyer Revenant that was carrying the Gungan Army back to Naboo. Anakin was still technically assigned as her security detail in lieu of the RNSF, so would have to accompany her.

I was called to Resolute’s bridge to answer a direct communication from the Jedi Council.

Back in my Aegis armor, in its standard configuration, I dumped myself into the command chair and queued the holo link.

Masters Yoda and Windu appeared in front of me, rendered into life sized versions.

“Masters,” I bowed my head to them.

“Padawan Tano, good work in Mon Cala,” Windu said with a nod of approval.

“Strong has the Force been with you, padawan,” Yoda declared. “You, elsewhere now we need.”

“The Council wants you to take the Resolute along with the 501st to bring relief supplies to Drongar. No doubt, you’ve seen the news by now of former Jedi Master Bulq’s defection to the CIS.”

I merely nodded outwardly donning a mask of determined outrage that another Jedi would defect, whilst throwing beneath those more deceptive masks. Palpatine had not let the opportunity slip to leak the news of the defection and it was all over the major newsfeeds.

"The ship and Jedi knights he attacked with Dooku were on their way there. The local Republic garrison urgently needs those supplies.”

“Understood, Master Windu. However, won’t Bulq just repeat the attack on the Resolute this time?”

“Republic Intelligence has confirmed his presence on Felucia as of eight hours ago. Scouts indicate no Separatist reinforcements within two days range of Drongar. Stopping our reinforcement was the only move they had to keep their chances alive of keeping the planet.”

I nodded, “What are my objectives besides the resupply?”

“We’re sending you a data packet on the planet with everything you need to know. If you can rout the Separatist forces with acceptable losses, go ahead. Otherwise you may need to evacuate the garrison if the Republic position there is no longer tenable. However, that determination will remain with the local theater commander.”

“I see. Very well, masters. I will get underway as soon as possible.”

“Padawan,” Yoda tapped his gimer stick for emphasis. “If attack, Sora Bulq should, engage him, do not.”

“I remember his classes well, Master Yoda. A Sora Bulq, steeped in the Dark Side, is not an opponent I would ever meet blade to blade.”

“Good, then may the Force be with you, Padawan Tano.”

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A few hours later I was in Briefing Room One, thoughtfully gazing into the holotank with a full render of the Drongar system and the primary target planet in question. Every known CIS and Republic position, the disposition of forces, what order of battle both sides had.

It was a grand old charlie foxtrot, in old Earth military parlance.

“Hey Snips.”

I looked up and gave a raised brow to Anakin as he ambled into the room.

“Skyguy, has the Revenant not left yet?”

“Still two hours, there’s been some delay due to triaging the gungan wounded. Quite a few of them will have to remain on Dac for weeks before they’re healthy and fit enough to travel.” He stared into the holo briefly then looked at me. “Are you going to be… I mean, I can-”

I chuckled at him fondly. “Skyguy, you have a primary duty to the senator, that has to be carried out. Stop feeling guilty that you’re not at my side when I wade into this mess.” I gestured at Drongar for emphasis.

“It’ll be nearly a 16 day round trip from Naboo at least.”

“And that’s assuming you don’t have to deal with some crisis that the universe likes to throw your way,” I smirked at him cheekily.

“It does seem to like doing that,” he admitted wryly. He looked into the holotank, “It seems that you’re going to have a tough time down on that rock.”

“Drongar is like Mimban on ultra-refined Spice,” I grabbed the holographic representation of the planet and the view zoomed in. “To just breathe on the surface, you need a mask to step the high oxygen content down, which is also murder on most metals, even durasteel will rust in this soup. Corrosive spore clouds in the upper atmosphere with highly adaptogenic organisms that will kill you within minutes if you breathe it in. It’s on the inner edge of the habitability zone from its parent star, so constant high temperatures with a ninety percent humidity factor that never goes down. Its axial tilt and lack of any significant moon means extreme weather and seasons; electrical storms, winds and constant rain. Repulsorlift vehicles are useless and due to the fact that no one wants to damage the bota plants, no blasters, heavy weapons or AT-TEs. It’s all back to slugthrowers and swords down there.”

“The planet must be murder on droids as well then.”

“It is, which isn’t saying much because the conditions are awful for troops as well. The fight against the planetary conditions claims more casualties than the droids do.” I folded my arms and scowled. “Honestly, I should just evacuate everyone from that hell rock and set fire to the bota fields.”  

“But you can’t.”

“No,” I admitted. “The Republic wants it so it can be a panacea. A medicine that isn’t subject to the problems of dealing with varying biologies of all the species under its aegis. The CIS wants it for the same reason. The Jedi want it, because we could send adepts or initiates here and empower them with stronger connections to the Force.”

“Which is something Dooku will want to stop at all cost,” he commented, but we both knew that he actually meant Palpatine. Anakin stepped closer and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let that world kill you, Snips.”

“I won’t, Master.”

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The thirty-six hour journey to Drongar was spent in a flurry of preparation.

Most of which was with the 501st, refreshing them for combat with vibroswords and staffs. My Mandalorian Blade contingent was a huge help here. Putting the troops through hard drills and combat exercises. Thankfully, someone in the GAR had thought of the eventuality of combat on a world which precluded the use of blasters, so there was no lack in storage of melee weapons.

The only problem was that the genius didn't extend his thinking to slugthrowers. 

So I plunged into the Republic database, Jedi Archives and even the Holonet; referencing designs from slugthrower enthusiasts of which there was a niche community.

I didn’t have time to make my ideal gun that I’d want to see the 501st use down there. The troops already down there were also making use of sonic pistols and rifles, for as long as they lasted in the hyper oxygenated atmosphere. Making the problem worse, was the issue of a slugthrower that could reliably penetrate droid armor and sufficiently mess up the internal circuitry.

The 205th Clone Legion was the primary force on the planet and they had their fab droids in orbit whip up a portable autocannon that fired a type of slug that surprised me. Someone in the Republic garrison had the brainwave to essentially come up with what was in effect a small high explosive, squashed head round. They didn’t bother trying to come up with something that could penetrate then explode inside the droid chassis. Instead, they used a round that detonated on the armor in such a way that it shattered the interior of the armor casings, creating shrapnel that bounced around and wrecked a droid’s internals. It was what I would call a HESH round in a gun.

These slugthrowers were not coming off a mass assembly line though and it was essentially a cobbled together cottage industry of fab droids making them. The guns had an effective lifespan of roughly two weeks before rust rendered them useless and it was even shorter if they were used a lot in the field.

If the situation on the ground wasn’t strange enough, the ‘battle’ in the orbital space was even weirder.

There was none.

The CIS fleet in system had a full squadron of Munificents on one side. Opposing them was a single Venator, three Acclamators, six Pelta class frigates and five Medstar class frigates, the latter of which were hospital ships with minimal self-defense armament. 

On paper if they fought, the win would go to the CIS.

The problem was that if that happened, the CIS feared the Republic would go scorched earth on the bota plants to deny their use to the enemy. The Republic fleet was also operating on the same assumption. The Resolute’s arrival wouldn’t change the equation drastically enough to make the CIS go scorched earth either, which was probably why I didn’t have a squadron of Venators at my back from the Mon Cala garrison fleet.

When the Resolute shot out of hyperspace beyond Drongar’s mass shadow, just above the northern polar region, we were treated to the strange sight of a Republic fleet and CIS fleet participating in what was effectively a joint blockade. 

“Utter madness,” Admiral Yularen commented from beside my command chair.

“Welcome to Drongar, admiral,” I said with a wry smile. “Nav, pull us into the mass shadow, join the Republic side of the blockade fleet in the rear of their formation.”

“Roger, commander.”

“Incoming communication from Admiral Bleyd,” reported Coms.

Appearing in holo from in front of me was my first encounter with a Sakiyan. Admiral Tarnese Bleyd was a humanoid with bronze skin, deep blue slit eyes, pointed ears, utterly hairless and he stood at 1.7 meters tall. The most notable feature of the Sakiyans, however, was their craniums, which was inordinately large to house a brain that was double the mass of a typical human. He also kept his naval uniform in such pristine condition, it seemed like it had just come from the fiber fabber. He made even Yularen look sloppy in comparison

“Commander Tano, Admiral Yularen,” Bleyd greeted, saluting Yularen specifically with a stiff, rigid formality. It immediately told me that despite being the same rank, that Yularen had technical seniority even though Bleyd was the theater commander. “Welcome to Drongar.”

Through the Force, I was immediately struck by a general feeling of resentment that was hanging over Bleyd like a cloud. This was not a happy camper.

“Thank you, admiral. We are here to deliver your supplies and the 501st stands ready to assist in any combat actions that you have ongoing,” I said with a pleasant formality.

His eyes turned and I could see he didn’t like me at all. In his mind, I was another young Jedi who had no business in a war.

“The 205th will be relieved to hear that, commander. However, I must respectfully decline the 501st’s aid. The battle on the planet is a very delicate balance as you must know by now. If your troops land in too great a number, it could tip the scale and the Separatists will incinerate the bota fields with the Hyena bombers they’ve dedicated to the task.” His body language relaxed a fraction. “The only reason it hasn’t already happened with your arrival in orbit, was because I informed the Separatist commander and negotiated for it.”

If I had less self-control, my jaw would probably be slamming itself on the floor.

“Excuse me, admiral,” Yularen cleared his throat. “You negotiated? With the enemy? What sort of circus command are you running out here?!”

“A command that is trying to fulfill its mission while still remaining combat effective. I was commanded to preserve the bota fields and retrieve as much as possible, carbon freezing the plants and sending them out with cloaked scout ships. The Separatists are doing the exact same thing. All the while we’re fighting in a back and forth battle on the surface for control of the fields.”

“So the last thing that anyone wants is to upset the status quo,” I said thoughtfully, tenting my fingers under my chin. “I can’t help but note that this arrangement is not reflected in any of the reports that come from this system and I did read them all, admiral.”

“Because I knew exactly how the upper command of the GAR would react, commander,” he said and I could sense he dearly wished to sneer at me. “They dumped us out here in this backwater system, fighting over the most valuable plant in the galaxy and expecting us to achieve victory with the scraps that make it out here.”

I gave Yularen a glance and sensed that the coruscanti was bursting to strip his fellow officer of all rank and chuck him in the brig for collaboration with the enemy. “I see, admiral. Now you’re clearly expecting me to understand, see your point of view and not report you to the Jedi Council and High Command.”

“If you want to see the bota fields go up in flame, go right ahead, commander. I won’t stop you.”

I stared into those slit eyes, sensing and probing with the Force. It was also interesting none of the reports from the Jedi knights that were down on the surface mentioned anything either. Bleyd had clearly managed to convince them as well.

“I will note for the record that I am obeying any future orders from you under protest, admiral,” I said frostily, allowing my emotion to show. “Would transferring the supplies to your ships first, then you shuttling it down be acceptable?”

“You assume correctly, commander. LAAT gunships need to be specially adapted to function as landing craft in this hostile atmosphere and make it to the surface in one piece. Only our Nu military shuttles are adapted for it.”

“Very well, my loading masters will contact yours within the hour to arrange a transfer schedule. I would also like to offer a company’s worth of the Drognar pattern slugthrowers that I’ve managed to construct on the Resolute.”

“That would be appreciated, commander and will make a huge difference in my next offensive. Now if you’ll excuse me. Bleyd out.”

His holo winked out of existence.

Yularen’s mustache visibly twitched as he struggled to keep his composure. “Commander Tano, with respect. You and I should both get on a shuttle now and relieve the admiral of his command.”

“That is probably a good idea on paper and it’s what must be done according to regs. We’d need the Council behind us literally before we can strip a theater commander of his position. Bleyd has unfortunately turned his entire command into a neat little trap. Even if he’s removed, it would neatly swallow the next commander to just continue the status quo, lest they be known as the one who lost the bota to fire or the CIS.” I sighed and rubbed the armrest of my command chair in agitation. “If they’ve been editing their reports, we need more information to decide anything. I also need to speak to the Jedi on the surface.”

“I think a bit of background research on him personally would not go amiss either,” Yularen declared.

“Something I probably should’ve done as well, but we ran ourselves ragged getting combat ready for this mission,” I sighed with weariness.

“You did the right thing, commander. That planet has the potential to be the 501st’s grave if they aren’t ready. You let me worry about Admiral Bleyd.”

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After a brief shuttle ride to the Bleyd’s Venator, Furor, I transferred to a shuttle capable of the journey to the surface. Every shuttle in the Resolute’s complement was zipping back and forth between the two ships, so it was simple to hitch a ride.

The Nu shuttle taking me to the surface seemed to be armored with an extra ablative layer for the spores in the atmosphere to eat away at, giving the thing a rather bloated and even ramshackle look.

“Don’t worry, commander. I’ve done this ride hundreds of times,” said the clone pilot, whose Phase 1 armor seemed to have gone through a blender, then repaired many times. I recognized the pitted scarring of slugthrower rounds and repaired vibroblade slashes.

“What’s your name, lieutenant?” I asked, as I strapped myself into the seat.

“CP-7648, but you can call me Grink, commander.”

“Well, Lieutenant Grink, shall we get this ride going and I’ll ask you questions on the way down.”

“At once, commander.”

The shuttle powered up and after a brief delay from flight operations to allow more supply shuttles from Resolute to land, the Nu squeezed itself out of the dorsal spine hangar bay of the Furor and began its deceleration for a descent to the surface.

If I ever had to imagine a planet with the label of uninviting then Drongar would be it. From space it seemed like someone had splashed it with an ever shifting layer of sickly green that flowed over the static blue of the oceans. I couldn’t even see any land down there.

“You wear that armor with pride, Grink,” I said into the shuttle’s com circuit.

“That I do, ma’am.”

“Never thought about getting it replaced?”

“It’d be a waste. Our armor was designed for blasters and basic kinetic resistance. Against the vibroblades, sonic guns and slugthrowers the clankers have bolted onto their arms, it doesn’t help at all. About the only thing this armor is good for is breathing without going dizzy, temperature regulation and keeping the local plants from scratching you, which can be a death sentence on this world.”

The shuttle began shaking as we entered the atmosphere.

I checked the seals on my helmet and M8 confirmed I was as buttoned up as possible with the oxygen masking working within parameters.

“How many times have you been to a Medstar?”

“Six, ma’am. Casualties are treated differently here on Drongar. If you don’t die instantly, you’re either just missing a limb or got a hole in you. Then they get you back to the Rimsoos; the Jedi healers, docs and droids do their thing and you get a ride up to the Medstar where you stay till you’re fighting fit again.”

Rimsoos was the clone slang for Republic mobile surgical units. The 501st had not yet had the opportunity to actually be issued with them and it didn’t look like we ever would, given that we were a ‘storm’ legion - meant to be strategically mobile and getting deployed to big trouble spots.

RMSU’s were essentially repurposed Juggernaut tanks that could stop and deploy itself into a field hospital over the period of an hour. It had general medical facilities, staff housing and even a cantina. They could theoretically treat even the most dire of wounds in the field, given the onboard anstisepsis fields, bacta tanks and even a minor cloning facility that could make replacement organs for the clones.

The Rimsoos were essentially the Republic learning from the early problems in the war. Instead of shipping a wounded trooper thousands of light years to a central medical station begging to be attacked, it was much more efficient to get an injured clone trooper patched up closer to the front lines.

“How many troops does the 205th have now?”

“Roughly 34 000 as far as I know, commander.”

That was an entire corps worth of troopers or four legions and at least matched what Bleyd’s reports said. Such a thing could happen when a unit was deployed longer and longer to a planet. The fighting here had been going on for more than a year at this point.    

“We’re approaching the first layer of spore clouds, hold tight, commander.”

He had barely finished saying that and I immediately sensed I was surrounded by life, a dense concentration of it.

The hull groaned and sharp twangs resounded throughout the shuttle as it began shedding ablative layers as the corrosive spores ate away at it.

Just as quickly, we left the spores above us as we continued our sharp descent.

Grink whooped with excitement. “That never gets old, commander. Never know when the spore cloud with your name on it will come.”

“How many shuttles are lost?”

“Don’t really keep track of that, but it’s been two weeks since the last one, commander. I’ve got a bet with my squadron mates we’ll make it to three,” he said with a happy-go-lucky fatalism that was rather astonishing. “Oh, another layer coming up, brace yourself.” The shuttle groaned as it plunged through another spore cloud.

I internally recited the Litany against Fear.

“Nasty electrical storm ahead, redirecting!”

The shuttle banked hard, shoving me against my restraints as the forces saturated the inertial dampeners briefly.

The rollercoaster ride of hazards continued for a full bone shaking four minutes before some semblance of stable flight was reached again.

“There we go, commander. We’re below 1000 meters, should be smooth flying from here.” I carefully worked and released my fear and tension into the Force. “Eight minutes to surface headquarters.”

“Thank you, Grink. Good flying.”

“Don’t mention it, commander.”

When the shuttle finally touched down and its rear ramp opened, I released my harness with a sigh of relief. The first thing I noticed was the increased local gravity as I walked out. 1.2 G wasn’t bad at all, but it was just another straw on the camel’s back of the awful local conditions.

Above me the oppressive gray-green clouds chose that moment to open up and begin raining in a downpour that I could only describe as a monsoon.

What a wonderful omen, I thought sarcastically.

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A/N: New arc commences. If ever there was a Warhammer 40k style death world in the Corusca galaxy then Drognar is close. Hope you enjoyed and have a great weekend, folks.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 25

She shut the front door to her house with more force than necessary, unable to suppress the impulse. Her nerves were twisting up and down her spine, tangling her stomach up in knots and she struggled to regain some form of calm.

Her head leaned against the cool thick wood of the door and she took deep breaths, closing her green eyes to just shut herself away from the world.

The fucked up world that left her with parents that had to be going through the weirdest divorce she’d ever heard of. At this point, either of them should’ve moved out and some sort of custody agreement worked out. Legal proceedings should’ve started and court dates set. Instead, they remained in the house, simply using separate rooms and each day like clockwork, the arguments began at breakfast then continued when both parents came from work.

The reason was as obvious as the sky is blue.

The economic benefits of having a parahuman child in the Wards.

It was almost as if she had used her power inadvertently to warp spacetime to keep her parents glued together. Simply by the fact that she had triggered. What a joke that it had happened during one of their fights.

Missy Biron forcefully turned her thoughts away from that loop of useless thinking. After two years, it still resonated and hung on her like a yoke. 

She picked up her school bag with a resolute motion, burying the stupid tears and began a determined stride down the house driveway.

To bring her thoughts to more pleasant territory, she immediately thought of Dean; narrow waist, broad shoulders, perfectly cut blonde hair. With practiced ease, she avoided the fact that he was dating her best friend to continue the pleasant daydream.

She absently thumbed the gate remote and emerged into the street to begin the walk to the nearby school bus stop.

By all rights, she should’ve been driven to school by one of her parents, but she had long since taken up the mantle of being as independent as the law would allow her to be.  

She wrestled her thoughts back to Dean as she walked, keeping her own situational awareness up, pushing her power outward and perceiving the ‘shadows’ where her control of spacetime was ‘off’, due to the fact a living person occupied that space.

Coming to the end of the street she turned the corner and was rather startled by the presence of a dog sitting patiently, waiting directly in her path.

“Aww cute,” she couldn’t help but say and smiled at the large Border Collie, an orange brown coated variant she couldn’t remember the name of.

Her mind recalled with fondness her mom’s two dogs, a Maltipoo named Chi-chi and Hans the Beagle. Just thinking of both was tinged now with bitterness, as both pets had been one of the first victims of the war between her parents. Her dad selling them off to get back at mom. 

The Collie had its tongue dangling out of its mouth, breathing in that excited energetic manner that all sheepdog had. Something about its eyes and the way it was looking at her, made her stop. There was also something else odd that was nagging at her, but her mind just slid off the idea in the face of the cute doggy.

Missy shouldered her bag to free both hands and displayed them for the dog, smiling and making sure to feel and project her good vibes.

Sure enough the dog had no objections to her coming closer and she chanced stroking… him on the head.

He definitely enjoyed that, leaning into her touch, so she knelt and scratched him on the neck as well.

He was well cared for, not dirty at all and while he did smell like a dog, there was a hint of minty shampoo and clear evidence of grooming.

“There’s a good boy, so cute you are,” she couldn’t help but coo. “No collar, eh?”

The dog just chuffed at the question, as if he was saying, ‘Obviously’.

“ID chip implant then, where’s your owner, boy?”

The dog naturally didn’t answer and just continued enjoying the scratches. Missy enjoyed the distraction for about a minute or so, but she had a bus to catch and reluctantly stopped. Standing and giving her surprise visitor a wry smile.

He clicked his teeth, then his jaw widened into a yawn, showing them off. His teeth were as pristine as a human’s, which given the level of grooming, wasn’t a surprise.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, but I gotta go. Get back to your owners, okay? It seems like they take good care of you.”

Missy walked past the dog and it wasn’t a few steps before she heard that he was following.

She stopped abruptly and looked behind her with a frown.

The dog immediately stopped and sat, just staring at her with a happy tongue hanging out of his mouth.

She resumed her walk for a few meters and stopped abruptly again.

Sure enough, the dog was intent on following.

“I have to go to school in five minutes,” she said, putting her hands on her hips to emphasize her seriousness. “Go home, boy.”

Again, she resumed her walk, a few steps later, the dog followed.

Missy bit down on the reflexive annoyance she felt and kept walking, hoping that giving him no further attention would give the dog the right message.

After two streets through the suburb and with the bus stop in sight, the Collie was still trotting behind her. Looking for all the world like he was dutifully accompanying his owner. Inside her heart and mind, a war was going on, between her love of dogs and the practicalities telling her it was impossible to adopt this one. Mom would love it, but dad would set the dog out the yard the first chance he got.

All the signs pointed that he had a loving, caring home. He had probably just snuck out through the automated gate when his owner’s weren’t looking, to go on an adventure. She knew Collies were high energy dogs and if you didn’t let them vent enough of it then trouble would follow. The only odd thing was how the dog seemed to attach himself to her so quickly.

She could see the bus approaching from down the street and the dog sped up a bit to now walk right next to her.

“Seriously? Boy, go home!” she repeated, pointing back down the street.

The dog just chuffed twice rapidly, almost laughing?

She shook her head. Has to be my imagination, she thought.

There were a bunch of middle schoolers gathered, chatting and gazing at the oncoming bus, seemingly oblivious to the four legged company that had joined them.

“See, the bus,” Missy pointed. “You can’t come with me on that.”

The dog just sat down and she got the distinct impression just from its eyes and subtle movements of its mouth, ‘Watch me.’

“This is ridiculous, you’re going to get me in trouble.”

The hiss of the pneumatic brakes startled her as the huge bus came to a stop.

In retrospect she could’ve escaped the dog with a quick use of her power, scrunch space ahead of her, take a step, and relax it behind her.

She wasn’t Vista at the moment though and the chance she’d be observed in the neighborhood was just too high, no matter how quick she went about it.

The children began boarding.

“Fucking hell,” she muttered under her breath. “Shoo, go home, boy!”

The dog sat down next to her feet and looked up with what best could be described as the dog version of a shit eating grin.

Everyone was aboard and Missy suddenly jumped up to the step, hoping to catch the dog off-guard, then use the bus door to slam it in his face.

The instant she had both feet on the first step of the bus, she whirled around, grabbing a hold of the steel folding door.

Only to find that the hydraulics firmly prevented manual operation.

The dog jumped and boarded as well, snaking through her legs like a wet eel.

“Eh hem,” the middle-aged bus driver said pointedly. “No dogs on board, Missy.”

“Mr. Douglas he’s not my dog,” she denied instantly.

The Collie turned in a tight circle, then sat down and looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for an order.

“Are you sure about that?” He gave her a wry look.

“Yes, he’s just some stray that followed me from my street!”

“Strays don’t exactly look like that,” he pointed sternly.

“I know, but I swear Mr. Douglas. He’s just a neighbor’s, that probably rushed out of the gate and now took a liking to me.”

Mr. Douglas frowned skeptically but seemed to accept her explanation. “Hey! Go on, get!” He shouted at the dog.

The canine turned his head to simply acknowledge that he had clearly heard the human, but turned back to Missy with an expectant air.

The situation became apparent to the children sitting in the front of the bus, their chatter growing excited, laughing and wondering what the cute dog’s deal was.

Mr. Douglas had a schedule to keep and children to get to school safely. He switched on the hazard warning lights and got up to show his full six foot one bulk to the dog, which wasn’t all fat. He had been a college football player in his own youth before a long term injury prevented him from going pro.

With still impressive reflexes he reached down to scoop the dog into his arms, grabbing for the spots which would keep the Collie from being able to bite him if it was so inclined.

Missy blinked in astonishment when the dog moved.

Mr. Douglas grabbed nothing but air.

If it wasn’t impossible, she’d have sworn that the dog had blurred in a manner not unlike Velocity did for the briefest of instants. Now the Collie was just sitting patiently a few feet to the right, further down the bus aisle and still giving that goofy grin at her.

What the fuck? She thought.

Mr. Douglas tried again, the dog blurred and sat in his previous position.

It was ridiculous. Impossible, yet she knew what she saw.

The dog had a Mover power.

The dog was a para… paracanine?

Her Protectorate training managed to kick in at this point and it told her one thing - the dog was fixated on her and therefore there was only once choice she had to protect Mr. Douglas and the children on this bus.

“Mr. Douglas, I’ll get off and you get this bus moving to the school, stop for nothing!”

“Wait-”

Missy turned around and jumped.

The instant her feet hit the street again she began running with all the speed she could muster.

She looked behind and sure enough the supposed dog was happily running after her, easily keeping up using conventional movement.

The bus still wasn’t moving.

Mr Douglas you idiot! She thought. Now is not the time for heroics on your part.

It wasn’t fair, protecting everyone in the bus was his job, which included her. The problem was it was her job to protect him from a possible parahuman threat. Could the dog be a Changer? It was certainly more plausible than a dog triggering.

The clock was ticking and her stamina for the sprint was running out, at which point she’d have to resort to her own power.

She considered her next move and made a decision.

Procedure dictated she activate her distress beacon, but it would mobilize the Protectorate to converge on her without any information and this was clearly something unknown and new. She had to give them at least some heads up.

She pulled out her phone and with some effort managed to keep running, swipe to unlock her phone and navigate its interface to dial the proper number. She also pulled out an emergency mask and pulled it over her head. It was a thin half-balaclava with inserts to break up the profile of her face to screw with image recognition programs and neatly hid her hair as well.

The instant it was secured over her head she slowed down to a jog.

The dog playfully barked and drew level with her, for all the world still acting like he was a Collie enjoying the energetic run with his owner.

She sank her power into the space ahead of her, the entire suburban street was thankfully empty of people or cars at that moment, then pinched it.

She took one jogging step then another, covering 270 feet in an instant.

She normalized the corridor of spacetime behind her and looked behind.

Just in time to witness the dog blurring briefly in the distance and appearing right next to her with a happy bark.

“Fuck,” she gasped incredulously as the phone vibrated in her hand.

She held it up to her ear and her jog was now making her school bag bounce uncomfortably against her back.

“Console here, code in,” said Triumph promptly.

“Six… one, Alpha… Omega, four, one… hash, nine, nine,” she said between gasps of air, using a partial duress code.

“Understood, what’s the situation?”

“Being chased… by either a Changer-Mover… masquerading as a dog or an actual dog… with para-abilities.”

In the silence on the line, she could practically imagine Rory’s jaw falling to the floor as his brain tried to comprehend that sentence.

“Wh- wh- Roger that. Is there hostile intent?”

“None, he just wants… to run with me… and won’t leave.”

She pinched space ahead of her when a car ahead had finally turned out of the way, making another warp-step.

The Collie blurred again, keeping pace and barked in delight.

“He’s keeping up…  with me, even with… warp-steps.”

“I’m dispatching Velocity. Keep moving.”

“Got it.”

She pocketed her phone, slowing her jog further to a light one that she knew she could keep going for much longer with her fitness level, which she kept as high as possible without running afoul of the PRT or the Youth Guard. Heaven forbid that a Ward actually becomes properly fit for the role they’ll be called to perform one day.

She warp-stepped once, covering the distance to the intersection, turned left and warp-stepped again.

“Woof!” he barked in delight, right next to her.

“Fine!” she snapped. “You wanna go for a run? I’ll give you a run.”

The warp-steps came faster, the only thing giving her pause was to dodge out of the way for a distant car or pedestrians and the time it took to pinch space. She wished her power worked faster in that respect. If it did, she could’ve done a fair imitation of Velocity’s own power, with the only limitation being that she needed to see the space she was warping and the shadows of living people.

She led the Collie on a vague circuit around her neighborhood, which bordered Lord’s Park to the south.

The containment dome for the Human Tree came into view and she couldn’t help but shudder, turn her head away and make another warp-step.

That thing still gave her nightmares after she had read the clearly sanitized report given to the Wards. What made it worse was that no amount of vague phrasing, redaction or language tricks could truly make that monstrosity of a thing ‘acceptable’ for Ward eyes. The Youth Guard had clearly tried, but there was no getting around the fact that the Wards had to know all the details in case of an emergency breach in containment.

The nightmares made her angry.

She had faced down Hookwolf in all his savageness, and was nearly murderblended by him with the scar to prove it. Yet, it was just reading a report and seeing an artistic rendition of the cognito-hazard tree which ended up giving her occasional sleepless nights.

Even now as she ran from the damn dog, her memories of the nightmares boiled up to the surface.

“NO!” she punched the air in front of her, imagining the tree being obliterated.

Thankfully, it did the trick and brought her focus fully back to the present to make another warp-step.

She looked back as the dog reappeared and her focused spatial awareness picked up on a glaring detail that flabbergasted her.

It was so astonishing that she stuttered to a stop and gaped as the Collie slowed down to a trot, his own breathing rapid with exertion. The dog stopped a polite three feet away and sat down, staring at her with expectation that the chase game would continue.

An air displacement hit her and between one blink of an eye and the next, Velocity had arrived.

She wasn’t even flustered by the muscular Protectorate hero with his very thin, skin tight red and gold costume that left quite little to the imagination. An either fortunate or unfortunate consequence of Velocity’s breaker power, was that it left him unable to truly affect the world around him the greater speed he achieved. The more he carried, the more he slowed down relatively, which included his costume. The fact he had a two way radio at all in his tight face mask was only thanks to Armsmaster’s Tinkering which allowed for the smallest and lightest radio in the world.

“Are you okay?” Velocity asked immediately.

Missy could only look back at the dog, double check what she felt with her power before nodding.

“Yes,” she took a deep breath, in through nose, out through mouth, focusing and calming down. “Just… seems like.” She coughed. “I’ve got a new doggy friend, who isn’t alive.”

Velocity put a hand on her shoulder in concern and gave the dog a weird look, “Looks pretty alive to me, Vista.”

“You’d think that. I was petting and scratching him before all this. He smells, he has body heat, he’s clearly very smart and even emotes quite well for a dog, but according to my power, he’s not alive.”

“What? You mean you could-” he trailed off in astonishment.

“I could stretch and pinch the space he occupies with no problem,” Missy nodded. “Naturally, I won’t do that, because this is a dog.”

“You’re certain of that now?”

“It was just a theory before, might still be the case. Just my gut speaking.”

She wanted to slap Velocity for the patronizing look he sent her way. As if he couldn’t believe that little Vista could be experienced enough to develop those gut instincts yet. He stared down the Collie, “I’m Velocity of the Protectorate, are you able to resume a human form?”

The dog huffed, closed his mouth and sniffed briefly, glancing at the speedster, before turning all attention back to Missy and happily waiting for the game to begin again.

“I think that answers the question.”

Velocity gave her an annoyed look, “Villains are capable of long term plans and infiltration.”

“Wow, what a dastardly plan, change into a cute dog and stick like glue to a Ward, hoping she’ll adopt you.”

He winced, “Yeah, when you put it like that. However, this city just had two very strange phenomena happen in it. Now we’ve got a dog that can seemingly keep up with you-”

Velocity blurred and the Collie blurred.

It happened in a moment and the Protectorate hero was back where he had stood, wincing as he flexed his right hand.

“And he can keep up with me too,” he said wryly. “Gave me a mild bite when I managed to get my hand near his neck.”

As if that would’ve achieved anything, the faster Velocity went, the less he was able to actually do. He would’ve had to slow down significantly to pick the Collie up. As much as she generally liked Velocity, his power, while amazing on paper, was basically to just arrive very quickly at a trouble spot and be a baseline human being. He could only keep himself safe and provide intelligence on a problem. That was valuable but it did little to actually resolve a conflict.

“Have you tried your other methods?” he asked.

Missy winced, “I was a bit too caught up in the moment to try a treadmill trap. I can’t set those up on a whim and he was sticking too close to me.”

“I see,” Velocity held up a finger to his ear, listening likely to either Armsmaster or Miss Militia. He eventually nodded, “Orders are to stay put, keep the doggy entertained until we can get transport here.”

She sighed with relief as she moved over to the sidewalk and dumped her school bag on the nice exterior lawn of the nearby house. The Collie followed as expected and made a slight whine of disappointment as Missy sat down.

“Yeah, you might have tons of energy, but I have a whole day still ahead of me,” she groused to the dog. “Any thoughts on a name?” she asked Velocity.

“You want to name him already?” he chuckled and she quickly looked away as the hero sat down next to her.   

“A dog should have a name, no collar and until we can scan for his chip, might as well,” she shrugged.

“Oscar.”

“Oscar? What kind of name is that for a dog?” She gave him an unimpressed look.

“We still use working dogs in the military, you know? One of my buddies was in a unit dedicated to them. Oscar was a beautiful Dutch Shepherd, explosives sniffer. Saved a lot of lives that mutt, including yours truly.”

Missy really didn’t want to ask, but her curiosity won out, “What happened to him?”

“Enemy snipers always went after our dogs when they could,” Velocity said sadly.

She felt a flash of anger in her heart at the mere thought of it. “No, all respect to Oscar, but I don’t want to think of that every time I look at this cutie. I think… Ziggy.”

Velocity chuckled, “Well, I’ll give you that it certainly fits with his speed ability.”

With determination she pointed at the Collie, “You’re Ziggy from now on.”

The dog’s ears flattened and his happy tongue retreated.

“He doesn’t like that one, it seems. Care to try again?”

“Nugget?” she asked eagerly.

The dog huffed and lied down, giving her an unimpressed look.

“Wow, now that is one smart dog, rather suspiciously so,” Velocity frowned. “We just had a tree given human characteristics and a para-ability dumped on this city. Could this be from the same source?”

“Maybe,” Missy agreed. “The problem is that both the train and tree were rather… awful, disgusting, and could get you killed or violated in nasty ways. A cute dog with super speed is not in tune with that theme.”

“We have to assume that the dog is just a wrapper for something nefarious. What better way to allay suspicion, Vista.”

He hated that he had a good point. “True, but until that’s a sure thing we’re treating Scotty like the cute doggo he is.”

The dog grumbled, ears staying low.

“Oh come on,” Vista moaned. “How about Monty? Peanut? Lucky? Spencer?”

The Collie yawned after all the suggestions.

Missy grabbed her phone, swiped a few times on the screen to bring up a browser and started searching for more names to try.

“Well, at least it’s something to pass the time,” Velocity laughed.

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“I hope you’re happy.”

Missy glared at the unrepentant Collie from her nice bed inside what was affectionately known among the Protectorate as the ‘Dunk Tank’ or as it officially known - Master/Stranger Containment Cell Number One. Adding insult to injury, she now wore only a plain white jumpsuit that might as well have been a sack cloth.

At least it wasn’t totally uncomfortable, but the bra she had been given was so bad that she didn’t even bother and only went with the standard issue panty under the suit.

Everything else in the absolutely featureless room was white, which combined with the lighting, gave the impression she was lying on a bed in an infinite expanse. Only the Collie, who had also helped himself to the bed and was now lying with contentment next to her feet, was the only bit of color available to her eyes.

A trick everyone knew was to simply put a hand against the nearby wall, to break the illusion and visually remind your own brain that, ‘Yes, I’m in a room’.  

Right now, she knew they were being scanned by every sensor that was available to modern science, including those of Armsmaster’s own creation. 

She had a wonderful two days of this level of scrutiny to endure, before they’d move on to a lower level containment for another three. At least there, she would have access to school work and the Internet.

The lights in the room abruptly changed color to a deep red and the startling difference made it almost seem as if the lights had gone out.

She felt movement on the bed and she looked down to see the Collie sneaking closer with a look in his eyes that just melted her heart. His head was now scooched next to her hip and she couldn’t help but lay a hand on his neck and begin scratching.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s horrible, I know.”

She had tried to read the science and reasoning behind the Dunk Tank during her early days as a Ward at orientation and hadn’t got past the first page before giving it up. Even now with two more years of middle school education under her belt, she doubted it would be any different.

Missy could only guess that the colors were causing some sort of effect and that the sensors were reading the effect on her brain waves or something along those lines.

“How about Bernie?” she smiled at the dog.

No reaction, another bust.

“This is going to be a long two days.”

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By the time she was escorted with the clingy Collie to quarantine she was practically kissing the floor in thankfulness for seeing proper textures in her own environment again. Not to mention finally getting an idea of what the time was.

This was only her second time in the Dunk Tank and the first time didn’t really count as that had been a thirty minute familiarization exercise.

She barely heard Miss Militia telling her what all the scans and testing had revealed so far.

“X-Ray and remote CAT scans came back clean. We did find a very small RFID chip, but we can’t make heads or tails of the coding on it and there’s components on it that even Armsmaster and Kid Win can’t identify.”

“Are they going to remove it?”

“No, the chip was surgically implanted near the brain in a way that should’ve killed the dog, at least, from the perspective of our own science. Remote scanning will have to do, for now. DNA profiling is still underway and so far nothing infectious has been detected in all samples gathered.”

Miss Militia and Missy were nevertheless still wearing medical grade surgical filter masks as a precaution.

They stopped at a door, with a swipe of a keycard and typing in a code, it opened to reveal a modestly appointed all in one living area that had a nice view of the Bay itself and city skyline. She always liked the views of the city from the Protectorate HQ Rig.

“In the bag is a change of clothes gathered from your house,” Militia pointed to the floor next to the desk. “Including lessons for the week of school you’re missing.” She also handed Missy a PRT issue smartphone. “You can go online, but you’re behind an active moderation filter program.”

“Thank you,” Missy said with feeling. The Collie slithered between their legs into the room and began practically spinning like a dervish on the central carpet. “Yeah, he’s been very antsy.”

“We know,” Miss Militia laughed. “All the essentials for him have been moved here already.”

“Good, anything else?”

“A nurse will be coming by for some blood samples from you later today.”

Missy scrunched her face in disgust, “I thought we were done with that in the Dunk Tank.”

“Now that you’re experiencing more natural stimuli, it’s important to keep up testing. Relax Vista, we’ve all gone through this.”

“Have you checked for a vampire among the medical staff?” she joked semi-seriously.

“I’m quite sure we would’ve noticed one of them spontaneously combusting when they walk outside in the sun,” Miss Militia smiled behind her mask. “Lunch will be brought in an hour and in the meantime, I suggest you catch up on school work. Which reminds me.” She brought forward a rather hefty book she had been carrying under her arm.

Missy accepted it and read the title, “Am I going to veterinary school now?”

Militia shook her head, “No, you’ll see a bookmark inside that goes over the procedures for drawing blood from dogs. We think the Collie will eventually trust you enough to allow it, so long as you’re the one doing it.”

The dog finally stopped its crazy spinning, then promptly jumped onto the bed to get comfortable there, staring out the window.

“Fine, I’ll give it a shot,” Missy sighed. As a young girl she had hated it when her parents took the dogs to the vet. Simply because of the stress it induced and the dogs knew when they were going to visit the man with the nasty needles.

“Also your parents have been informed of the general circumstances, they send their love and best wishes for a full recovery.”

Miss Militia’s tone was studiously neutral, but the older heroine knew full well what was going on in the Byron household.

“Do they think I’m sick or do they actually know I was in the Dunk Tank?”

“The latter. They know you encountered a parahuman phenomenon on the way to school and reported it in.”

“And Mr. Douglas and the children on the bus?”

“We’re lucky that he was rather reluctant to leave you, the delay allowed Armsmaster to catch up with them. They’re all under a precautionary observational quarantine.”

“I’ve made a lot of work for all you guys,” Missy observed wryly.

“If the Collie had been an actual vector for the spread of a disease or a cognito-hazard, we’d have far more work. As it is, you’re going to receive a ‘good work’ commendation on your record for getting yourself out of there when you realized the situation. The only mild correction to give was that you should’ve advised Mr. Douglas to stay in place, but we recognize you were not in any position to actually order him to do so.”

Missy nodded, it was just a shame that it wouldn’t actually lead to any improvement in her capabilities or career.

She was classified as a Shaker 9 and yet the most they would allow her to do was look ‘cute’ for cameras, go on patrols that had only the most marginal chances of seeing any action and put down control effects on any battlefield or crisis point.

It was a point of pride that, despite all the hamstringing thrown her way by PR and the Youth Guard, she had the most arrests on record for any Ward on the East Coast. That little fact was also not widely circulated as that would run counter to the impression that the Image Department of the PRT wanted.

“Anything else you want to talk about, Vista?”

“No, thank you, Miss Militia.”

“See you at the end of quarantine, slam the panic button if anything unexpected happens that the cameras can’t see. You have full privacy in the adjoining bathroom.”

The Protectorate heroine left, locking the door behind her.

Missy threw herself into the chair behind the desk, looking at the pile of school work stacked on it in a disgruntled manner.

“Let’s get this over with.”

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“Welcome back from the Tank!”

The rather pathetic blowing of a single party popper was what greeted Missy on her return to the Ward common room at PRT HQ.

Dennis approached in his skintight white costume decorated with clocks minus helmet, a big grin on his pale eager face. He seized her own right hand and shook it with overblown fanfare. She knew he wouldn’t do his usual prank, because he liked his balls and shin too much to risk her wrath, so she tolerated the antics.

“Thank you, Clock,” she rolled her eyes.

He turned his attention to the Collie at her side and grinned. “Hey Buddy, good to meet you.”

The dog barked once and sat down, eyeing the Ward wearily. Dennis knelt to carefully scratch his head but flinched backward when the Collie snapped his jaw.

“Okay, sorry Buddy. I won’t do it. Can I pet you now?”

Missy blinked as the dog actually huffed in response, before Dennis carefully pushed his hand forward again to successfully scratch the dog behind the ear, which he seemed to enjoy.

“Wait a tic, you wanted to prank him with your power?”

“Of course, it’s practically tradition, since Buddy here is eventually gonna be the bestest boy of the Wards, isn’t he? And now I have to tell Armsmaster that Buddy can read my intentions well enough that I can’t use my power on him. No separating him from you that way.”

The dog barked again as if in agreement.

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised at that one,” Missy muttered. “And what’s with that stupid name you’re giving him? We’re not calling him ‘Buddy’.”

The dog barked, gave Missy a slight growl and even a side-eye.

“Oh come on, Missy. He’s a ‘Buddy’ if I’ve ever seen one. Watch this.” Dennis stood and took a few steps back. “Buddy, sit,” he ordered with a kind firmness.

Missy gaped as ‘Buddy’ sat down properly and gave a half-bark in acknowledgement.

“Buddy, lie down.”

The Collie gave a half-growl, but nevertheless lied down on its legs with an air of grudging obedience.

Dennis grinned at Missy in a satisfied manner that made her want to slap him. “See, he’s so obviously a Buddy. Well trained too it seems.”

She sighed and wouldn’t admit in a hundred years that she had tried nearly the entire duration of her quarantine to bounce names off ‘Buddy’ to see what the dog responded to. She hated that Dennis only needed one look and a few seconds. “Fine, Buddy, get up. Let’s go.”

Buddy barked and got up as they walked deeper into the common room. 

Aegis was the only other Ward here, sitting at a PC in his full armored costume and busy as usual with the minor administrative duties given to him as leader of the city’s Wards. Kid Win was probably in his lab as usual and Gallant was a curious no-show. The mid-afternoon weekday was usually a time when they were supposed to be in the Common room, unless otherwise occupied.

“Missy,” he greeted her. He gave a look down to the dog that had seemingly adopted her. “Hi Buddy.” He lowered a hand and held a dog treat of some sort. The Collie immediately approached the offered food, sniffed it, then Aegis, before a quick single bite removed the treat from view. Carlos immediately smiled and scratched the dog’s head as Buddy chewed on it.

“Anything happen while I was away?” Missy asked curiously.

“Nothing from the gangs, except the usual. Few scuffles, injuries, hospitalizations, unpowered gangers only. Only blips on our radar really have been a few independent villain sightings and actions. No arrests, unfortunately. By the time the Protectorate or PRT arrives it’s usually too late.”

“They have to be slippery by nature to survive at all.”

“True, most of those identified are visitors. Testing the waters so to speak, to see if they can set up shop now that the local PRT and Protectorate has to manage two quarantine zones.”

“We’ll just have to convince them Brockton is not their new playground then,” Missy said firmly.

“Amen to that. Those who’ve been identified have profiles that you should review on your PC. Oh, thought you should know we’ll have a replacement for Shadow Stalker soon.”

“Really? Anyone I know?”

“Bit far from our usual neck of the woods. Nightleaf from Denver.”

“Yeah, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Blaster 5. Very versatile, but doesn’t have any Mover powers or durability besides being Manton limited to be immune to whatever she shoots out of her hands.”

“That’d give a nice leg-up on the E88, now that they don’t have Purity anymore. Anyway, when am I getting back out there?” she asked eagerly.

Carlos winced, “Sorry, Missy. If Buddy here is going to stick to you then there’s a bunch of stuff that has to be cleared first. The eggheads at the PRT needs to first figure out how he does what he does or at least quantify his ability to make sure it doesn’t pose a threat to you and the public. There’s also a bunch of national interest and there’s probably a formal Case file designation going to be opened for him, as the first non-human lifeform on this planet to have Triggered with a power.”

She pulled out a nearby chair and collapsed on it, and gave a double facepalm. “You have to be kidding me!”, she snapped at the ceiling.

“Unfortunately not. There’s even some talk that you might even be transferred to New York where the PRT science facilities are better.”

“Please tell me you’re going to fight that,” she begged.

“Of course I will, Director Piggot even said that she’d fight it too. We’re short staffed as it is to be losing you for months just so Thinkers and Tinkers can poke at Buddy. No, I think she’s going to make them come here. She even said she’d use a favor from New Wave to have Panacea have a look and shove her report in the direction of the PRT upper ranks.”

“Good, but I can guess what the next issue is going to be. So when can we expect Glenn to show up?”

That overweight, overbearing head of national public relations for the PRT had been the one to personally design the image of Vista.

It was a costume that she didn’t like completely, but had learned to live with. It leaned too much into the cute and magical girl themes. A proper armored helmet would’ve been much better but that was contrary to the way she was ‘approved’ to fight in a cape action and gave an appearance that was too ‘martial’.

“Given the way things are around here, he’ll probably make a video conference call before he shows up in person. That’s another thing that happened whilst you were in isolation. The city’s been officially raised to an Amber B-class threat level.”

Missy gaped, “Seriously? On a permanent basis? Not temporary?”

“Provisionally permanent, pending a review within six months. Given we have two active quarantine zones that need managing it should’ve happened sooner.”

“That means quite a lot of things could be changing around here,” she said with an eager smile.

“Yep, bigger budget, which already has Kid Win jumping for joy, considering the projects that he has on the backburner because of lack of funding. It’s also why we’re getting Nightleaf so quickly and two more Protectorate members are coming onto the city’s roster.”

“Finally-”

The common room rang with a specific two tone chime.    

“Mask up!” Aegis called reflexively.

Missy whirled and ran with a brief warp-step to her own locker, pulling out her green visor and settling it onto her head. It clashed horribly with her current civvies of blue jeans and orange shirt, but there was no time to correct that given the visitor warning bell.

She was also surprised at the fact that Buddy hadn’t joined her, but it was understandable as she saw him getting fed another treat by Aegis.

The common room door opened and a fully suited Armsmaster entered and scanned the room briefly. His gaze paused on Buddy as the dog sat next to Aegis, still munching on the treat.

“Aegis, you’ve managed to increase the dog’s separation from Vista by seven meters... by offering him treats?”

“He’s a dog, sir,” Carlos said with a clear effort not to sound as if he was mocking his superior or judging him in any way. Missy restrained her own giggle with some effort and she bet Dennis was grinning like a loon behind his mirrored full face visor. “Clockblocker also found a name that the dog responded to, ‘Buddy’.”

“I see,” Armsmaster eventually said into the silence that followed. “Well, good work, both of you. As you’re aware, Protectorate Thinkers with the scope for long range sensing are having problems with the Brockton Bay area. Some have even visited in person for short amounts of time, with no improvement. However, there are two independent Thinkers who are still able to apply their powers within the city limits we know of. I thought having one of them look at Buddy will be of benefit.”

He stepped forward and to the side, allowing entry for…

Missy’s eyes widened, Dennis coughed suddenly and Aegis froze in his seat behind the PC.

“Hello everyone, pleasure to meet you,” said Escort politely, from behind the long unbraided perfect hair that dangled over her face. Her signature iron pipe weapon clanged on the floor as she rested it there, keeping it in hand. Her curved hip flaring as she leaned on it.

Missy idly and irrationally wondered if the young nude heroine could use it for a pole dance if she anchored it into the ground.

Any response from them was interrupted though when Buddy stood on all fours, tensed and started growling at Escort.

The independent hero tilted her head, hair parting slightly to show a single shadowed eye that stared down the dog.

Buddy kept growling, taking a half step forward.

Escort remained visibly relaxed despite the threat, even when Buddy started showing teeth.

The tension in the room grew thick enough to cut.

Before Missy or anyone else could even think to do something, Buddy blurred and Escort vanished into thin air.

The dog reappeared snapping his jaws onto the air that the Escort had occupied, before blurring with speed again.

Missy felt her ears pop with a sudden ringing pain, she cried out, trying to instinctively shield her ears with her hands, only to feel the edges of her visor getting in the way.

There was a thump of metal hitting something… flesh?

Then the sound of a dog yelping with pain.

She looked up just in time to see Escort standing in the middle of the common room with Buddy in her grip with unyielding arms around the dog’s midsection and neck, his paws helpless in the air and frantically twitching.

He growled fiercely, wriggling in Escort’s grip but he failed to escape, still trying to bite the heroine.

Escort’s mouth thinned with a fierce anger, the wriggling of the dog had whipped her hair apart and Missy saw a vaguely familiar face she’d definitely seen before.

“Armsmaster!” Escort shouted.

The hero’s signature halberd was already out and had finished assembling itself. With perfect power assisted precision he aimed and a large injection dart was launched which stabbed itself directly into Buddy’s chest, just beneath the soft tissue of the rib cage.

In barely a second, the dog’s struggles began to visibly weaken and after ten seconds, ceased entirely.

Escort’s face looked pained and conflicted, her eyes filled with a grim determination.

She put down Buddy gently, then stepped back some distance, keeping her eyes locked on the very still form of the dog, which was now absolutely still and his tongue drooped out. His eyes were blank, missing the spark of life and intelligence that had been in them.

“You- you- killed him,” Missy muttered in disbelief, switching her gaze between Armsmaster and Escort.

Any further explanation was interrupted when a flash of light and heat washed over them.

Buddy’s body erupted with intense white flame.

Missy could only look away as the brightness threatened to sear her eyes. It was like looking into the sun.

After a few seconds, when the harsh hissing of flame died down and the heat no longer washed over the room, she warily looked where the dog had been.

A pile of ash was all that remained.

“What the fuck was that?”

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SCPs featured in this chapter:

Based on and with a few tweaks, "SCP-6842" by DrowningDutchman, from the SCP Wiki. Source: https://scpwiki.com/scp-6842. Licensed under CC-BY-SA.

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The Force Wills - Chapter 86

If the underwater battles we’d had before then weren’t enough of a paradigm shift in just how to approach a battlespace? Battlewater? Then fighting one on this scale presented an entirely new set of considerations.

As far as I knew from recorded galactic history, no one had fought with these numbers in an aquatic environment. Maybe the peoples of Dac and other water worlds had in the ancient past or perhaps a conquest of the Rakata had involved such a battle.

Whatever the case, Anakin, Lee-Char, General Tarpals and I were now grappling with that very real problem. It was not helped by the fact that for all we knew, our karkarodon opposition might be more experienced in it - by fighting wars amongst themselves. Tamson’s temperament certainly suggested that to me.

“General Tarpals,” I held up my hand to project a tactical holo of the local battlespace. “We need to deploy in layers and walls. M8, five icons for each gungan regiment, please.” I grabbed two delta shaped icons and positioned them in the upper layer of the ocean, two for the lower layer beneath the first thermocline and a single regiment for the deepest part all the way to the ocean floor. “The enemy will make use of the deeps to flank us from below if we let him. Each layer, must have a wall of your troops, use your shields, double stacked, to create a central bulwark. The first layer will absorb as much fire as possible, then the layer behind them will swim forward, allowing the first to retreat and let their shields recharge and cool. They advance as they do this, whilst each wall has left and right prongs of troops that will swim to the side, attack the enemy and eventually surround them. Do you see?”

Tarpals was a relatively older gungan but still in his physical prime. As a native aquatic, he immediately saw what I was trying to do.

“It can work, Commander Tano. General Skywalker?”

Since Anakin was the senior general on the field, even though Tarpals technically should’ve had that, all orders had to come from the Jedi General.

“Deploy as the commander indicates,” he nodded.

I grabbed the holo and chucked it to Tarpals. M8 immediately handled the nitty gritty and the gungan general’s hand held holo blossomed with my battle plan. He began immediately speaking in rapid gunganese into his comlink.

It took barely a few minutes and I could see the results as the regiments began diving and orienting themselves. They wouldn’t finish before the enemy reached effective weapon range, but it was far better than just blundering head first into an experienced army of nasty aquatic warriors with far too many teeth.

The combined clone and mon cala special ops squads that had sabotaged the scanner building now joined us, bringing their subs including the five modified disruptor cannon subs.

I handed the controls of my own sub to another trooper and took over his standard Devilfish sub. 

Anakin nodded at me, then addressed the four clones and all the other sub pilots, “All right everyone, the disruptor cannons are our best shot for taking out the Tridents at a long range. The gungans could also do it with boomas, but they’d take awful casualties in the process. We’ll also be using standard cannons and torpedoes against them. We’re the cavalry and long range artillery in this fight. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Ahsoka, you need to stay in the rear with Prince Lee-Char, Chewie and General Tarpals. I have no doubt that Tamson is taking to the field himself and he wants the prince.”

I nodded in understanding, it went unsaid that I needed to remain here to apply maximum levels of Battle Meditation to so many troops. I couldn’t do that and be in the battle, whilst also having to worry about bodyguarding the prince.

“Let’s go!”

The newly formed aquatic cavalry squad pushed pedal to the metal on their subs and streaked away towards the battle layers.

I set my new sub to a buoyant station keeping mode and sat down cross legged on its hull.

“Prince, keep your spear up and ready. General Tarpals, same with your weapon. Chewie, you need to be my bodyguard.”

“What are you doing, Ahsoka?” Lee-Char asked curiously.

“You’ll feel it soon.”

I closed my eyes, calling up my full focus and the Force, pushing my perceptions outward to encompass a spherical hemisphere of five kilometer radius from my body, down to the sea floor. I ignored the logical part of my brain roughly calculating just how much volume that was and banished the thought.

My mind found the concentrations of spirit that represented every gungan, clone and karkarodon in that hemisphere.

I also found the very blinding presence of Anakin.

He hardly needed his own spirit buoyed but excluding him required effort, which was far better used elsewhere.

The energy of the Force flowed in me and through me, branching out and connecting to every little light of spirit.

It was so beautiful to see in my mind, I wish I could have made a painting of it, yet I knew many of those lights would join the Force in death within moments.

Ranges closed, the gungans continued getting the formations in order.

The karkarodons opened fire.

The gungans returned fire.

You can do this.

The Force is with you, always.

We are with you.

Take heart, fight for your fellow warrior beside you.

“What is this?” Lee-Char’s mouth was partially open in astonishment, his eyes shining with a near elation, his stance in the water subtly shifting. He was no longer an introverted princling, thrust into a battle for his people and world, now he was clutching that spear blaster as if he had been born with it. His movement fluid and body language with a hint of confidence.

I didn’t answer, instead focusing on the enemy. It would be the first real time I used the offensive version of Battle Meditation at this scale, my mind bent onto their spirits…

In the Force, I perceived the educated hunch I had was correct - the karkarodon homeworld was one beset with internal conflict even to this day. Every warrior Tamson had brought was from his own clan, simply because he could be assured that a rival clan wouldn’t try to stab him in the back, literally and on a greater scale.

Your cause will fail.

You are outnumbered.

These waters and this planet will be your doom.

Below us is an entire city of people who will hang your carcasses to the sky and air.

The enemy began dying.

Blaster shots hitting them mostly in the head as they swam towards the gungan army. Their own shots being deflected off gungan shields and the slowly building shield wall.

The walls were incomplete and sheer volume of fire meant that gungans also suffered casualties.

Tridents decloaked below the first thermocline and opened fire with their weapons, killing nearly twenty gungans in an instant before their shields could be brought to bear against the Repeater fire.

The local gungan commander responded almost instantly, getting his warriors in order, keeping them organized and retaliating.

Entire companies worth of blaster fire impacted against the Trident’s shielding, then mass amounts of boomas were thrown and the Trident’s internal power systems died - fried to a crisp by exotic plasma.

I sensed all the karkarodons inside trying to get out, but it was futile. What had been their transport and gunship became their tomb as none of the exterior doors would work and the transparisteel was too strong for their own blasters to work on. The Trident sank into the deepest depths and would settle there, until someone could improvise an explosive charge.

I traced the probability line and it showed them all dying in an hour when that charge was incorrectly placed and calibrated. The ship’s structure would fatally collapse and the ocean pressure at that depth would crush them like a trash compactor.

The battle in the lowest thermocline also began similarly, with three Tridents decloaking, except these ones immediately opened to disgorge their troops.

The difference here was that the enemy was caught somewhat off-guard.

They had not expected a mere land walker to think so three dimensionally and had delayed deployment, hoping to get properly underneath us.

The battle that ensued was an awful close range slaughter, favoring the gungans.

The gungans practically enveloped the Tridents, dropping boomas and shooting into the emerging karkarodons from above, below, left and right.

Only so many of the enemy could deploy from the relatively narrow deployment door between the massive tentacles of the Trident.

The karkarodons ended up using their dead as shields from gungan fire to close range, where their superior physicality and teeth came into play.

It was balanced by the gungan agility in the water, who fired their rifles from close range, stabbing their barrels into karkarodon chests before pulling the trigger, resulting in very messy explosions. Some gungans even used their shields, finding that the edges of the energy constructs were quite handy in cutting the enemy.

Whereas the old gungan shield needed extra support buttressing on the edges, blunting its potential use as a cutting weapon. These were now more compact, modernized to fit onto the gauntlet of the warrior and could retain cohesion without the buttressing.

Booma hits now began to disable the Trident’s exterior weaponry. They were barely able to emerge from their panels before a gungan chucked a booma to impact the weapon.

The bisected chunks of karkarodons leaking blood began creating a stained cloud in the water.

Gungan limbs and bodies began joining them.

Meanwhile, the battle in the upper thermocline reached a new ferocity when torpedoes from the Tridents began launching.

What made it worse was that whoever was in charge of targeting didn’t care whether they hit karkarodon or gungan. The formation shield wall was well established at this point and the gungans were steadily advancing in leaps, with the two ‘horns’ of their formation beginning to envelop the enemy.

The tips of the horns were the most contested, with gungans forced into close quarters fighting with the enemy. The torpedo salvo had multiple targets, but it seemed to favor the closest intermingled lines.

The gungan center frantically fired on the incoming torpedoes and Anakin’s sub cavalry swooped in, where he used the Force to crush the weapons outright.

The tips of the formation were not so lucky and three torpedoes detonated.

I felt twenty-three gungans and forty-seven karkarodons die instantly. The expanding hammer blow of expanding compressed water, with subsequent a void implosion and final shockwave doing its terrible job.

Anakin’s Devilfish subs fired their own torpedo salvo in retaliation, focusing on a single Trident.

The ship’s Repeaters fired in defense, but it was far from an effective anti-torpedo unit, the design trying to tick too many boxes at once.

Five torpedoes made it through to detonate against its shields, which popped like a bubble. The subsequent effects tore at the hull, rending huge wounds in it. Something was also damaged internally and the internal reactor’s fusion bottle failed. Thankfully, it scrammed successfully but it lost all power, its tentacles freezing and all propulsion systems giving up the ghost.

The sub squadron targeted the next Trident, this time using their blaster cannons. It did nothing but splash against the shields, until the disruptor cannons fired.

The orange beams sliced through the water in an instant, going completely through the shields and slamming into the hull directly.

At the contact points, the armor disintegrated immediately and the Trident was wreathed with slivers of electric energy briefly as its power systems immediately began failing.

The squadron followed it up with a coup de grace of blaster cannon shots that consigned it to finally drop into the deeps.

Some karkarodons tried to swoop in and attack the subs, but Anakin with his lightsaber and the clones working in concert fended them off by shooting their DC-12s with one hand.

It was at this moment I noticed a cluster of life signatures in the Force, which were slowly approaching from our right flank straight towards my position.

They had taken a long route, circling around the periphery of the battle and were now coming closer.

A cloaked Trident.

My Battle Meditation was on them, but there was one among them who merely seemed to use it to spur his own anger and determination. It didn’t take a genius to guess who this was. No need to use Farsight at all.

I was about to break the Meditation, but my Prescience practically screamed a warning down the probability line.

Despite how well the battle seemed to be going in the gungan favor, there had yet to be any sign of the League quarren or aqua droids. The latter was being occupied by the allied forces at the city’s periphery. If either enemy force managed to break contact and return to the main battle over the government complex, the numerical advantage would be equalized considerably.

Currently, my blanket of Battle Meditation was keeping someone from ordering that.

Both paths would still result in victory, but the cost in one was leaning more towards a pyrrhic type and it would also have unacceptable ripples back on Naboo.

A small part of me wanted to scream in frustration. Served me right for not going into Meditation in a more secluded spot, yet events and timing had forced our hand.

I pulled back just enough focus and concentration to speak.

“Lee Char, Tarpals, Chewie,” I gained their attention.

“What is it, commander?” the prince asked with worry.

“I cannot stop what I’m doing and we’re about to be attacked.”

“From where?”

He was answered when the Trident decloaked, its  forty meter long tentacles surrounding us. The main hull right over our heads and the debarkation door opened immediately with an ominous mechanical groan.

Emerging at speed from the dark maw of the Trident above us, was a furiously swimming Riff Tamson. An odd alien blaster in one hand, whilst the other held a dagger and his mouth was open baring all his fearsome teeth to us. His snarls of anger resounded through the water around us.

Tamson was many things, but stupid was not one of them and he led his attack by throwing that dagger down at us.

It cut through the water but wasn’t aimed at us, instead the dagger detonated in a small explosion just a few meters above our heads that put all my defenders on the backfoot.

It saved Tamson from getting a bowcaster bolt shot through his maw and his first target was Chewie.

His blaster shot speared down and would’ve hit Chewie in the abdomen, but Tarpals interspersed his shield and the bolt was deflected away. The Aegis would’ve saved the wookiee’s life, but not without an injury that would take him out of the fight. The gungan general’s instincts were spot on.

Especially when he slammed the shield reflexively straight into Tamson’s face.

“Argh!”

The karkarodon recoiled backward, clutching at his shocked snout.

Chewie roared in anger, firing his bowcaster but the range was close and Tamson’s own instincts saved his life as he dove low under the sub, using it as cover.

Lee-Char, Tarpals and Chewie through some instinctual agreement surrounded me, backs to each other and weapons raised, waiting for Tamson to try again.

I siphoned off a precious bit of focus and will, enough to say, “M8, autonomous defense mode.”

“Autonomous defense engaged, mistress. I dare this pathetic meatbag to come close now!” she snarled into my helmet, so only I could hear. She engaged her external speakers. “Hey, karkie boy, is it true if you stop swimming, you die?”

Tamson roared into view trying to bite Lee-Char.

The prince swiped his spear into the karkarodon’s face, forcing him to dodge aside and dive again, especially when Tarpals fired a trio of bolts, one of which clipped the enemy on his armored shoulder.

“Try again, meatbag!” M8 chirped with fury.

Chewie slung his bowcaster over his back and drew his wookiee spiritblade, switching on its vibro function.

He was just in time to block an attack from Tamson, deflecting his dagger attack to the side and slashing in a riposte.

With frightening reflexes and speed, the Separatist dodged again but now with a souvenir. 

The spiritblade caught Tamson on his rear leg as he dove again, leaving a clear blood trail that dispersed in the water.

“Ha ha ha,” his voice rumbled from underneath the sub. “Prince Lee-Char! I’ve been looking forward to this moment. I must admit these creatures you’ve brought to fight my army are giving a good show of themselves. But it’ll all be for nothing when you join your father in death, as he did at my hand!”

“The only thing you’ll be doing, Tamson, is rotting in the depths of Dac!” Lee-Char retorted.  

The Separatist popped up like some demented jack in the box, trying to let off a quick shot with his blaster.

Tarpal’s shield was there, the general having clearly anticipated that Tamson would go for the prince.

Tamson charged furiously, snapping his jaws in a threatening display.

Chewie and Lee-Char thrust their weapons forward, forcing Tamson to dodge to the side lest he impale himself.

M8 made herself known by literally puppeting me, grabbing my lightsaber, igniting and giving a simple upward slash.

She did this with machine reflexes and speed, injuring my right arm somewhat in the process.

The surprise on Tamson’s face was total, not that he had a conventional humanoid expression.

M8 lopped off both of the karkarodon’s legs with an awful grating noise that resounded in the water.

Lee-Char gave a vicious shout and surged off the sub in the next moment, pushing against the water with all his strength.

“Haaaaah!” The Prince shouted with exertion and his spear blaster stabbed through Tamson’s chest.

The karkarodon gurgled and coughed blood.

Lee-Char was far from satisfied, letting his momentum pull his feet forward to settle on Tamson’s chest. He grabbed a dagger from the Seperatist’s belt pouch and stabbed it right into the karkarodon’s neck.

The prince pushed off, kicking Tamson away who was amazingly still hanging on to life.

He flailed and pumped with his arms trying to regain control of his near bisected body.

Lee-Char aimed with his spear blaster and fired.

The shot, taken from just over five meters away, hit the dagger.

The explosion was brief and bright, the small void quickly reclaimed by the ocean and staining it with green blood and scattered viscera.

Riff Tamson’s lifeless head, burst eyes, jaw and teeth wide open and dangling, began sinking to the bottom.

“Prince Lee-Char!”

M8 grabbed my DC-12 and aimed it at the still open maw of the Trident, my lightsaber also coming up in defense. Tarpals brought his shield up, rushing to the prince’s side. Chewie roared in defiance at the owner of that voice, bringing his spiritblade up and ready to launch himself forward with the promise of violent dismemberment.

Emerging slowly and without any weapons was Chieftain Nossor Ri.

Lee-Char aimed his spear blaster but didn’t fire, “Are you surrendering Nossor?”

“Yes…” Ri bowed his head. “Your highness.”

That surprised the prince enough that he slightly lowered his weapon. “What? What happened to going it alone? Independence? Isolation?”

Ri shook his head, “A foolish notion, born from the latest generation, encouraged then subverted by Tamson and the Separatists. The karkarodon wished to place himself on the throne of this world and in so doing, both our people would be slaves to them. He merely used the quarren. We would’ve been used as labor for the war machine of Tamson’s clan on Karkaris and the CIS.” He closed his eyes. “I was swept away by the tides of ambition. When your father died, seemingly at the hands of a mon cala, I took it as a sign-”

“Wait, you thought that a mon cala did that?”

“I was a part of the government and an advisor to your father. The investigation found mon cala skin on the handle of the coral dagger. Suffice it to say, it was clear to me that there were even mon cala unhappy with the monarchial government. I see now after the fact, that it was all just Tamson, especially when I discovered he had brainwashing technology which worked on mon cala and quarren alike.” 

Nossor now looked to the nearby ongoing battle - just in time to see a Trident exploding violently.

Everyone winced at the sound and the shockwave that eventually reached us was little more than a light push.

“I can only now do one thing, you highness. Then I will submit to whatever justice you wish,” he tapped his comlink. “Attack the karkarodons.”

Emerging from the city buildings nearby, thousands of armed quarren swam into view.

They charged with speed and swiftly cut off any line of retreat the karkarodons had - capping the tips of the gungan formations, achieving a complete envelopment.

General Tarpals’s eyes widened and he hurriedly gave orders over his comlink for his warriors to not engage the quarren.

The battle would stretch on for another fifty minutes as not a single karkarodon would surrender.

They fought viciously and to the last.

My only consolation was that the gungan casualty rate petered off to almost nothing after the last Trident was disabled.

We received word not soon after that the diversionary action at the city outskirts had also ended, with every aqua droid being destroyed as well.

All across the planet, the now dissolved Isolation League quarren laid down their arms in surrender.

The battle for the waters of Dac was over.

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The battle for the Mon Cala system was a different story.

Barely four hours later, after losing all contact with their aquatic forces and Riff Tamson, the CIS fleet in Ruisto jumped to hyperspace.

The Republic Task Force was there waiting for them when they emerged into the Mon Cala system.

The battle in space was something we had no control or influence over, it was all in the hands of Master Koon.

The majority of the civilian population emerged to begin the clean up and reconstruction of the city even as the battle for the fate of the entire planet raged in space.

My own time was spent with General Tarpals and Anakin as we supervised and helped in the retrieval of the gungan, clone, mon cala and quarren dead.

The deaths across the planet would take months to properly tabulate. Those missing and taken offworld into slavery was few in number relatively speaking, but it was definitely in the hundreds. Mon cala who were now being ferried across the stars in cloaked ships towards whatever destination that Dooku and CIS had in mind for them.

Among all the Republic forces that had come to Dac, counting clone and gungan, a figure of 8% casualties and 3% deaths was reached within a few hours of the post-battle recovery efforts. The shields had done their job and it was only the Tridents and close quarter actions that had resulted in gungan deaths. It still meant just under four hundred gungan families would get unbearable news soon.

The injured, both civilian and military, began filling the capital’s hospitals. 1,232 gungans and clones clung to life, with missing limbs, blaster wounds and blunt force trauma being the biggest causes of injury to the combatants.

It was a never ending list of issues and worries, which would only continue to grow, especially when the political situation was taken into account. I didn’t envy Lee-Char at all.

The landlubbers were finally given a reprieve when the prince ordered that the largest hotel and a few smaller ones in the city that catered to offworlders be opened up for us.

I climbed out of my armor in my new somewhat basic 30 square meter accommodations with a hurry and just sighed in relief when my skin could just breathe properly again.

Then I even went further when that didn’t satisfy, going down all the way to my birthday suit.

I walked forward to lean against the circular window, staring into the waters as the sun went down over Coral city.

“M8, status of the battle?”

“Ongoing, mistress. After the CIS achieved a foothold, Master Koon had to retreat to Dac’s orbit. Both sides are still having fighter duels across the system, fighting to conquer and defend Mon Calamari system infrastructure. Tactical advantage remains with Republic forces due to the microjump ability of our star destroyers.”

I had to sleep and was running on fumes at this point. The mass Battle Meditation combined with the post-battle cleanup work had shattered me. Moving constantly in an underwater environment for so long made me feel like every muscle in my body had undergone a punishing workout. Even with the Force aiding me internally and my Control skills, there was only so far you could push the body.

“And the Providence carrier?”

“It has sustained damage but is still in the fight.”

It would be supremely annoying if we won the underwater battle only to fumble the fight in space. If the CIS attained space superiority, we’d be trapped in the waters of Dac. Waiting for whatever factory that pumped out aqua droids to produce enough to attack us again, unless the Republic could push them out of the system first.

I was so tempted to find a proper sized holotank and begin plotting tactics to help Master Koon, but my thinking was also quite sluggish at this point and I’d be risking making critical mistakes. No, I had to trust that Plo Koon could handle it.

My feet plodded me over to the bed and I promptly collapsed face first onto its delightful softness. The hotel room wasn’t a penthouse suite equivalent or anything, but right now anything vaguely sponge-like was like laying on a cloud of softness to my battered body.

“M8, guard mode, please,” I mumbled with the last vestiges of wakefulness.

My armor sealed itself up minus the helmet and M8 picked up the DC12U rifle to arm herself.

“Sleep tight, mistress.”

I gave her a mumble of acknowledgement and soon fell into the welcoming oblivion of sleep.

Of course, my subconscious decided to delight me with a wonderful rerun of the worst moments of the battle. The awful price of Battle Meditation, I was acutely aware of when someone died whilst I was using that skill.

That rerun was interrupted when I abruptly found myself in the infinite white and dark crystalline domain of the Darksaber.

“Seriously?” I asked, looking around me.

“That’ll be enough of that,” said an old female voice from behind me.

I recognized it instantly and I felt my back stiffen and shiver.

Fear was not something I was going to show this specter of the past. Why would the Darksaber choose her of all people to wear as its face?

I turned around and beheld an older human woman slightly shorter than me, she wore old style Jedi robes, green tunic and dress, with a hood that purposely covered her eyes, which I knew would be milky white underneath. Her long gray hair was parted into two braids which framed her face, with golden rings binding them. She wore her experience and age in her body language, but I saw the skin on her face unblemished with wrinkles as was typical for certain Force users who had the skill and power to control their own aging. Jedi Master Fay being the only contemporary Jedi who had managed to achieve that.

I folded my arms and frowned, “Why?”

“You’re taking the deaths rather hard, young one,” said Darksaber Kreia. I could only nod, it was the truth. “So now I mirror your question, why? You’ve got that necklace to represent every clone that you’ve lost under your command. To keep yourself from trivializing their sacrifice. Is your resolve faltering now that you have natural born soldier’s names to add to that necklace?”

I sighed, fingering the necklace in question that was naturally there the instant I thought about it. Originally conceived to hold the names of every clone pilot who had flown and died in Wraith Squadron. I was now probably going to have to add a data chit to it if I was going to memorialize the names of all the gungans. “I suppose the fact that they have families back on Naboo is what’s getting to me. The gungans have their own traditions for honoring their fallen in battle. However, they were technically in the GAR. My decisions led to their deaths and the responsibility for their loss is mine. I know they accepted the role of warrior knowing it could lead to their death, but whilst my mind can accept that… the heart is not so easy to conquer.” My eyes found Kreia’s missing left hand. “Every time someone dies whilst under my Battle Meditation, it feels like a lightsaber chopping off an arm. How does one ever get used to that? Are you even supposed to?”

“This has been haunting you, ever since you started using it properly on your return from Mortis?”

“Of course.”

“You know the dead do not care about our silly little rituals to honor them. Only the living do, they’re to help and alleviate our pain, it’s what helps us continue onward.” Kreia gestured with her stump. A small wooden table appeared and all it held was a simple datapad; it was on and a word processor program was running…

Such a simple thing, yet I felt a terrible dread just looking at it.

It was totally irrational and my subconscious speaking.

“You’re thinking of writing letters to the gungan families. Why? You didn’t know them until they fell under your command. Let Tarpals handle that. He was their general. Even he wouldn’t have known every single one of them. He is going to rely on the commanders and lieutenants in the gungan regiments to do this.”

I shook my head, “I must… do something-”

“Simply because you felt every single death?”

“Yes, as you said, rituals are for the living.”

“So you’re going to do it for yourself. You’ll take this burden on your shoulders because to do otherwise would be unconscionable to you.”

“Yes, it’s-”

“This is not Earth.”

The Darksaber was pushing my buttons. I knew they were doing it. Yet, I couldn’t stop the flash of outrage and anger at the kyber entity.

“So what?! So I should become an uncaring, unfeeling monster who spends the lives of those who come under my command like currency? Shrug it off and hyper away, second star to the right? I’ve already made my peace with it and accepted it.”

“Yet you can’t help but feel that something is distinctly different now. That every dead gungan warrior and mon cala was unique, never to be repeated. A snowflake falling from the sky, which meets its inevitable end with the dawn. Hence, the clones.”

“They might be spun from the same DNA, but each is unique in mind and personality! They each have a unique presence in the Force-”

“But no family who could accept a condolence letter. That is the point of them after all, to spare the pain of war from the families of the Republic.”

“They died in the defense of their own home. If the CIS succeeded here, it would’ve shown they are ready to invade Naboo’s waters as well. It doesn’t help you conquer the land, when there is also an army in the water waiting to take you out. Naboo is also a symbol-”

“You’re rationalizing now.”

“Why are you doing this?!” I finally snapped, glaring into the face of Darksaber Kreia. 

“Why do you think I chose this form?” she countered.

“Of all Force users in history, I fear most becoming like her.”

“That is what you tell yourself rationally and it certainly has merit, I will not deny that. Kreia, however, is still a valuable lesson to learn from. She once said that she is merely a mirror and her purpose was to show what her student’s eyes could not yet see.”

“And what are you trying to show me then?”

Darksaber Kreia only smirked in response.

My weary sigh echoed throughout the infinity of this kyber realm, “An answer I will have to find for myself, naturally.”

Kreia raised her arms and now the hilts of three lightsabers hovered around her, which activated with purple blades and began lazily orbiting around her.

“The outfit is wrong, she only wielded those as a Sith,” I criticized.  

She laughed with amusement, “I’m not here to make sense for you, Ahsoka.”

A simple thought and I was fully armored in my Aegis, with my two blades and the Darksaber humming threateningly around me in guard positions. 

She immediately sent two blades forward trying to stab my stomach and slash my head off, keeping the third back in defense.

I intercepted them with my green blades, whilst sending the Darksaber shooting forward.

Abruptly the two purple blades shut down, zipped under my guard and reignited. Whilst she easily fended off the Darksaber with a twirl of her defending blade.

Only a Force Push overwhelming Kreia’s control briefly saved me from being impaled as I rolled backward.

“Trakata, really?” I asked wryly, when I had reestablished my defenses. The technique was rare to both Sith and Jedi. Only someone like Kreia would use it because she alone didn’t give a shit what both Orders thought about it. 

“I’ll admit, the chance that you’d ever fight someone like this is almost impossible. Yet, lightsaber training is not really the goal here.”

All three of her blades surged forward this time, coming in at odd angles.

My blades rose in defense, batting them away, but I kept my body moving to create more complexity for my opponent in controlling those purple blades.

The speed and complexity of the battle challenged not just my telekinetic control and reflexes but also the intellectual mind. It was like a very deadly form of three dimensional chess, with lightsabers and your body as the pieces.

“Then again, never say never,” I gritted through my teeth as my blades were pushed back on the defensive. “We live long enough, there might come an opponent who challenges us like this. Trying to beat us at our own game.”

I dodged to the side, shutting down one of my blades. It snuck past her blade, then the hilt shot straight towards her head. I timed the blade to activate at the last possible moment.

Kreia smirked and tilted her head with a blurry movement, so my extending blade missed by an inch, before a Push from her sent it back my way with no more effort than batting aside a fly.

“So you’ll use Trakata as well, tsk, tsk,” she grinned.

How was it that she could make even a grin take on a distinctly sinister air - it was very creepy.

“In a fight to the death, nothing should be off the table. However, in this case, I’m merely equalizing the playing field.” 

Darksaber Kreia nodded, “Good.”

Her next attack shot towards me, her blades spinning like energy buzz saws and shooting towards me from my left, right and above.

Finding the intercept points conventionally with my own blades was ridiculously complex, the timing down to the millisecond, especially as her blades had variable speeds.

I was not playing that game.

I pulled my blades back to my inner ring of defense, made some room and released a Force Wave that overwhelmed her control over her own weapons.

The purple blades scattered back in Kreia’s direction flailing randomly, but she quickly regained control as I lost them due to distance and the increased influence of her passive defenses.

I sent my green blades to attack, recalled the Darksaber to my right hand and charged her down.

She recalled one of her blades to her right hand, gripping it just in time to overhead block my Falling Avalanche on her head, all the while we were jockeying our other blades to gain an advantage.

My armored knee surged forward abruptly, catching her in the stomach.

Despite having seemingly caught her off-guard with that, I knew she was faking. Her internal control was too good, fortifying even her internal organs to dissipate the sudden kinetic energy. Not that she really had organs, this was just the Darksaber entity simulating and its own opinion on what Kreia should’ve been capable of.

It nevertheless forced her back a step, breaking the blade’s contact. 

I lunged forward with my blade even before my feet hit the ground again, pulsing the Force from them to provide a base and keep me balanced.

She had to dodge and I applied a Trakata to my green blades to sneak them through her defenses, attacking her back. At the same time, I slashed to force her to retreat straight into my oncoming weapons.

She fended off the Darksaber with a deflection, bowed and twirled her blade behind her back, knocking my green blades off course, then added her telekinetic strength to their direction of travel - which was straight into my abdomen.

My control over my own blades meant that I could shut them down, and they bounced harmlessly off my armor.

At that moment, I only had the Darksaber, but now she had three active weapons to retaliate.

I deflected one, but the tips of two purple blades stopped themselves millimeters from my forehead and right side, just above the togruta liver.

“Checkmate,” I acknowledged the defeat.

Darksaber Kreia nodded, “You did relatively well considering the fact it’s the first time you’ve fought another opponent with the Ehn Kad Ky’ram.”

“You came up with that or did one of your previous wielders read a dusty old tome somewhere in the Vizsla vaults?” It basically translated to the ‘three blade death dance’.

“I’d like to think that’s what Tarre Vizsla would’ve called it.”

“So, shall we try again? Still have no answer on what you’re trying to teach me.”

She smirked and stepped back, bringing her blades to the ready.

I mirrored her.

This was going to be a long night.

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The next morning I was back in my Aegis, eating a meaty breakfast at the hotel’s restaurant, which was also packed with troopers from the 104th Battalion. Getting just one set of some sort of comfortable clothing was next on my to do list.

Across from me, Chewie had enough meat to feed me for a whole day on his plate, just as his breakfast. He ate with perfect decorum, using a knife and fork. The amount of food he could wolf down with one bite was substantial as well.

“Sleep well, Chewie? The beds aren’t exactly wookiee sized in this hotel.”

“Fine enough, just slept diagonally on a double,” he waved off my concern. “Have you heard anything about the fleet battle?”

I finished chewing on my first bite and swallowed, “Master Koon’s fleet has fended off every attack throughout the system overnight. It’s now just a matter of consolidating to push onto the Ruisto hyperpoint and either force that CIS Providence to retreat or destroy it outright. The enemy’s lost enough ships that we can be confident they won’t conquer the system anymore unless they receive reinforcements, but our scouts up the hyperlane haven't found any.”

“Good news then,” Chewie’s shoulders lost a subtle tenseness. More than likely he was relieved that he wouldn’t be in for a long duration stay in the waters of Dac. “What are we going to do today?”

“More of the same, post-battle operations and cleanup, intelligence gathering from the wrecks and debris on the ocean floor. These Tridents represent a worrying threat. It means the CIS can now perform deep tactical strikes with relatively large numbers anywhere in Republic space at will. The security of being behind the front line battle spaces is not so absolute anymore. They can’t hold a planet or system, but they can do a lot of damage until we’re able to respond.”

“Think I can take a look at the remains of their cloaking devices?” Chewie asked.

I carefully swallowed as I shut down the impulse to face palm. “Sure, in fact I think I’ll invite over a few mon cala engineers as well from the shipyard. It’d be nice if there was a handy exploitable weakness in the CIS cloak.”

No cloaking device was perfect after all.

It was just a matter of finding what it didn’t shield from detection. The problem was that usually those kinds of emissions were only detectable by highly specialized sensors that you’d find in a university lab or science facility with machinery that measured its size in kilometers.  

Pre Clone War cloaks had all been penetrable with detailed magnetic scans and eventually torpedoes with specialized EM seeker heads had been developed to counter them. Then Palpatine had let the horse out of the stable, with a cloak that got rid of that weakness, by giving the late Cad Bane the Xanadu Blood fighter. 

That had been a very enjoyable spanner to throw in ol’ Sheev’s plans.

Now the Republic openly had their own version of the modern cloak.

These Tridents now represented a further refinement, allowing them to operate in the complex environment of an ocean.

With the mon cala studying and eventually putting their own spin on it for the Republic and themselves. We would now have a full blown arms race of cloak vs. detector and which side could be better would determine who’d have a vital strategic and tactical advantage.

It was amazing how these little happy accidents and opportunities arose to complicate Palpatine’s vision.

I daydreamed a bit about a Mon Calamari MC-80 star cruiser decloaking and delivering a titanic world of hurt on a surprised enemy.

My comlink did its usual thing of interrupting the moment. I put down my cutlery, “Yes, master?”

“Hope your armor is in presentable shape, Snips. The mon cala and quarren want to coronate Prince Lee-Char today.”

“So soon? Their system isn’t even secure yet.”

“They see it as a sign of defiance against what the CIS tried to do here. Now hurry up and get to the complex. Use the transport tubes.”

“They’re cleared already?” I asked in astonishment.

“I don’t think there’s a single person in this city who can say they didn’t help in the clean up in some way, Snips. It’s amazing what the people of this world can do when they put their minds to it.”

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The central multi-level hall that had held the Grand Conclave was absolutely packed with mon cala, quarren, gungans and assorted off-world dignitaries who maintained an embassy. It was practically a demonstration of that old Earth simile ‘like sardines in a can’.

It also truly demonstrated the mental difference the people of Dac had in comparison to typical human or humanoid behavior. Just a few days ago there was an entire civil war happening, yet now through that crucible of fire, they emerged and I didn’t sense any resentment or anger from either side. It was like I was watching the perfect coordination of a school of fish in the oceans of Old Earth, but on a societal level.

It wasn’t totally perfect, as the entire civil war had demonstrated neatly, but the moment it was revealed how the quarren leadership had been essentially tricked and subverted, things changed quickly. The only emotion I did sense was a strong determination and purpose for the future that this would never happen again.

Prince Lee-Char kneeled before a Mon Cala priest who opened a chest made out of coral.

Nossor Ri, in his final act as chieftain, opened it and pulled out a grand crown made of gold and perfectly uniform shells shaped to fit the head of a mon cala. It didn’t really hold a candle to an Imperial State Crown of the British Empire, but the reverence for it that I sensed everyone around me felt was impressive.

“As representative of the quarren people, I pledge our loyalty to you,” Nossor said grandly, putting the crown onto Lee-Char’s head.

Lee-Char rose and swam upward into prominence, then looked at everyone in turn. “As your king, I pledge my loyalty and faithful service to all the people of Dac, until the sea calls on me to return to the deeps.”

The priest raised his staff and bellowed, “So it has been witnessed! Prince, he is no longer, now King Lee-Char!”

“KING LEE-CHAR! KING LEE-CHAR! KING LEE-CHAR! LONG LIVE THE KING!”

The shout was deafening but every mon cala and quarren raised their voices as one.

In the distance, I could also see that the entire city, watching in front of holo terminals had also joined in.

Just as suddenly, there was silence when the new king raised his hand.

“In my first act, as reconciliation in addressing the wounds that this war has opened. I declare a blanket pardon for all combatants. Crown authorities will not prosecute quarren or mon cala for any actions which resulted in loss of life and property. That being said, Nossor Ri has offered his resignation as chieftain and to forfeit his freedom for life. I will accept the first but not the latter. The Quarren Isolation League also has been dissolved.”

Everyone cheered for that.

“There can be no division in the face of a galaxy at war. The CIS heartlands are practically on our doorstep. Their ships are still in our system, being driven out at great cost by the Grand Army of the Republic. In my second act, I thank our brothers and sisters of the sea, the gungans, who traveled far in the void between stars to lay down their lives and fight with us. Their sacrifice will never be forgotten and has created an unshakable bond and debt between us. One that we will honor in an alliance of mutual defense. The waters of Naboo are now as the waters of Dac to us.”

A great shout of affirmation rocked the waters.

“My personal thanks to General Skywalker, Commander Tano, Senator Amidala, General Tarpals of Naboo and Captain Ackbar without whom I wouldn’t be here today. Finally, I will commission the construction of a memorial here in Coral City. Everyone who lost their lives in this war and in the defense of this planet, be they quarren, mon cala, gungan and clone, will be enshrined on it. So that future generations can see and learn the heavy price paid for their freedom, so they may cherish it forever. So shall it be!”

“SO SHALL IT BE!”

“SO SHALL IT BE!”

“SO SHALL IT BE!”

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A/N: Wow, what a ride it was to write this arc. Have a wonderful weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 85

Surviving in a constant underwater environment was not easy for us landlubbers.

Every Devilfish sub had most of its mass dedicated to life support systems and each could practically sustain three squads of troopers with oxygen generation. They also contained supplemental food rations, which was another complication. These had to be capable of being squeezed through a tube, which was inserted into a dedicated port in every SCUBA trooper’s helmet. The trooper armor also had special accommodation for waste disposal, which was connected to a specialized port on the Devilfish to be drained, where it was disintegrated.

The one thing that hadn’t really been planned for was being able to get some rack time. Often troopers had to sleep out in the field away from forward operating bases, but here you had the problem of a rather noisy oxygen regulator and the rumble of bubbles escaping with every breath you took. Falling asleep with that constantly in your eardrums was not easy for anyone.

As a Jedi, I had the internal control to dissociate my hearing, but for a togruta that was viscerally uncomfortable. Even though I had plenty of practice with deafness from when my montrals had been injured, it was not an experience I wanted to inflict on myself via the Force.

Relief did come for us thanks to Administrator Pombe and the fact that the mon cala had to actually test and rate their ships to operate in atmospheric environments common to all land walkers. The very manufacturing building they had fortified had a giant test chamber inside, which could generate a variety of environments on command. Furthermore, as luck would have it, there had been a modular passenger ship inside the chamber undergoing testing when the war broke out.

It only had a bunkerage capacity of three hundred, but it did allow us to organize sleeping shifts where the SCUBA troopers could get out of their suits and sleep in a more natural environment. The Refresher systems were unfortunately not installed yet in the ship, so that still had to be handled by the subs.

Chewie and Padme were sent off to get some rest immediately by Anakin, whilst both he and I toughed it out to wait a further six hours for the second rotation shift.

In the meantime, we along with Senator Tills, Ackbar and Prince Lee-Char met with Pombe, her secretary and a dozen shipyard engineers and scientists in a conference room on one of the highest levels of the building.

The administrator had the rarest form of pigmentation among the mon cala; pale green with camouflage type streaks, whilst also being short, barely reaching 1.6 meters. She complemented this with a strappy red outfit, that had it been on a human woman would be quite risqué, but was par for the course in semi-formal mon cala fashion.

Introductions were made all round but Pombe immediately got down to business after she gave a perfunctory bow to the prince. It didn’t seem to me she was much of a monarchist. There were also five quarren among the engineers. I could sense they were angry, weary and sadness hung on them like a heavy cloak. Clearly demonstrating that the League didn’t speak for every quarren on the planet, especially among those whose profession required rational scientific thought.

“Thank you for relieving the siege on this building,” she said with a nod. Her blue eyes gave the prince a brief look, “Those League worms might have fled and thrown down their arms, but this shipyard is filled with many items, technology and combustibles that can be used to hurt us badly.”

“We have established a proper perimeter, administrator,” Anakin retorted.

“I’m aware,” she said dryly. “Those traitors I’m ashamed to say were very clever engineers under my supervision and your troops must not hesitate on the triggers when they come back.”

“I’ll spread the word.”

“Good, now what plans are there for getting us all out of this mess?” Anakin gave me a pointed look. “Please tell me there is one,” she said with exasperation.

I spread my senses fully into the room around me, putting everyone under the equivalent of a fine tooth comb through the Force.

Immediately I felt something rather alarming; one of the mon cala engineers, a male with silvery skin, standing across from the table was boiling with emotions and intent, clearly psyching himself up for something. He was incredibly nervous and angry. Technometry also showed he was carrying a compact, high energy source. Clearly he was armed, but so was everyone in the room at this point, even Senator Tills had a hold-out blaster. He was rigidly keeping his intent focused on the wall behind the administrator.

His heart was racing.

The mon cala engineer whirled bringing up a small blaster, aiming in a flash at Lee-Char.

“For Freedom!” he shouted and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened and he looked down at his blaster stupidly.

Ackbar had his own spear blaster up in an impressively quick move for someone still injured and fired at the traitor.

Nothing happened and it was Ackbar’s turn to growl at his gun.

Everyone else in the room dove for the floor, whilst Senator Tills also tried to bring her blaster on to bear on the traitor.

“Enough!” Anakin shouted, his voice pulsing with the Force to make everyone hesitate for a second in their next action.

I raised my hand and every weapon in the room, shot up against the ceiling.

Anakin raised his own hand and threw his version of the Force Stasis against the would-be assassin.

For a few seconds everyone was dead still until Ackbar swam to the door and called for two knights.

Pombe raised herself to a standing level with a pull of her hands and her mouth scowled at the assassin. “Ruhab! You insane glottlefish! What could possibly possess you to try that?”

Anakin shook his head, “He can’t answer, I’m restraining him completely. Just in case he tries to commit suicide in some manner. Ahsoka, can you Sleep him?”

“Mon cala brain is a bit too different, I’m not comfortable trying it without possibly killing him.”

“By the Daca, he’s not some criminal fiend or assassin, I know him! He’s one of the best sublight drive engineers I have.”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t take that chance. Ahsoka…”

I pulled out a DC-15S sidearm blaster from the pouch in the small of my back, flicked it onto the stun setting and shot the hapless assassin.

“Thank you,” Anakin relaxed the Stasis and let Ruhab float freely.

The knights grabbed him by the arms and swam out of the room quickly.

Pombe practically facepalmed as the others in the room floated back to standing positions, “I don’t understand. He had the prince dead to rights, thank goodness his blaster was faulty.”

“I doubt that,” Ackbar grumbled. “The chances of my weapon also being faulty beggars belief. Commander Tano, do we have you to thank for that?”

I nodded and let everyone’s weapons float back down from the ceiling. “He needs to be interrogated. We must know if he was acting out of his own will. That can’t happen if he’s dead. No race acts in unison, there are always outliers and individuals, but the fact that a mon cala that just tried to assassinate his monarch out of the blue, when Administrator Pombe professed disbelief that he’d ever do such a thing… That strikes me as very suspicious and points to brainwashing.”

“We’ll certainly be scanning for that,” Ackbar folded his arms. “Are you all right, your highness?”

Lee-Char nodded and waved off the concern, “I’ve just come through two battles, captain.”

“That is the battlefield, highness. An assassin and a mon cala at that, just tried to kill you in person. That is personal and it can rattle even the most stout of heart.”

I could sense the prince was certainly feeling quite unsettled and his nerves were giving him minor tremors in his right hand.

“I’ll be alright, captain. Let’s get on with our business. Clearly the assassin was also put here to disrupt us and our planning.”

“That’ll certainly do it, they’ve certainly sown a seed of doubt in who we can trust,” Pombe grumbled. “Now tell me, how are we getting back the capital?”

“We must first devise a solution for the karkarodon cyborg jellyfish that is swarming the capital,” I said, swimming forward and slotting in a data chit from my armor to a holoprojector on the central table.

A high resolution scan shimmered into being.

The shipyard engineers leaned closer with interest and digested all the annotations that M8 had made about it.

“How did you get such scans? Remarkable detail,” Pombe asked, who looked rather fascinated despite herself.

“My armor can also be said to be a class one archeological droid, from a certain point of view,” I said with a grin. “M8’s been hard at work analyzing things, but devising how to counter the shields will require professionals.”

“These are not just shields,” said a quarren engineer, pointing at the tentacles hanging below. “They visibly function as such, but your droid indicates that when shot the effect on them is different, the resisted energy isn’t radiated at all. It has to go somewhere… It literally absorbs blaster shots?”

“What form of shield could possibly do that?” asked a mon cala scientist. “A shield based on deflector principles doesn’t act like this.”

“An entirely novel particle could be in use here, a whole new technology.”

“Possibly, but let’s stick to the practical,” Anakin said. “The energy is being pulled in, what next?”

“Storing it, no, no, first converting it.” The quarren’s tentacles quivered with excitement. “Plasma and magnetic converters, perhaps it's then turned to help further power the shield itself and the cyborg jellyfish’s systems.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” disagreed another scientist with a pompous scoff.

“Are you blind? Look at the data!”

“I am not blind, it’s just premature to make such speculation until we can conclusively determine the particle or waveform being used by this shield.”

“We don’t have years for you to write a Coruscant Prize worthy dissertation-”

“Enough,” Pombe snapped, slamming her hand onto the table. “Your typical ice-lobster behavior is not going to cut it, not today. We need a practical solution that we can put into the hands of the troops or mount onto a sub as soon as possible.”

“You might as well be asking for us to reinvent the Kwa Infinity Gates.”

“There you go again, overblowing things as usual.”

I tuned out the ensuing argument at that point and swam away to a corner of the room, bringing up M8s scans for myself in my HUD to review.

These shields had a nasty resemblance to another cybernetic species I knew from another universe. I doubted that these jellyfish cyborgs could truly ‘adapt’, since they didn’t have mind boggling computational resources linked via subspace behind them, nor that these shields were that dynamic. It just so happened that they were designed to hoover in the types of energy that were most commonly used by the galaxy in terms of weapons.

Types of energy.

I rushed forward and by this point the eggheads in the room had clustered into distinct cliques that were brainstorming and arguing around hand held holos.

The din in the room was quite considerable and I wished I could properly whistle.

I could do the next best thing in this environment.

Between my hands I Pushed the water away from a singular point, until I had a vacuum sphere the size of a football.

I let go and the thump of water radiated out into the room and gave everyone the mildest of pushes. It did the job of getting the eggheads to pay attention at least.

“Now that I have your attention, instead of arguing minutia, think of these things as sea sponges. Now we just have to give it something that it can’t absorb or if it tried, it would end up being destroyed,” I said to the whole room.

“Ion?” asked a quarren scientist into the silence.

“Too commonly used,” I shook my head. “It needs to be exotic.”

“Anyon particle?”

Pombe laughed in derision, “Oh, now you want us to build disintegrators?”

“Could you?” I asked in turn.

“Never mind the illegality of it, we’d need to build them rather big to have any effect on the enemy. It’d take at least a day to build one, since we’d be working by hand and fabricator droid. Retooling a production line would also take too long.”

“Breaking Republic law is a decision that can only be made by the prince,” Ackbar said sternly. “If we build and use disintegrators, it is he who would have to answer before the Senate.”

“Given we have two officers of the GAR here, who are seemingly making the suggestion,” Tills gestured to me and Anakin. “Will you also stand before a Senate judicial committee if it comes down to it?”

‘Skyguy?’ I thought to him.

‘I really hate those weapons, Snips.’

‘I don’t like them either, let’s at least make them a last resort?’

Anakin nodded at Tills, “Yes, but we’ll use them only when no other options are possible. I have a feeling the solution is in hand, but we’re just not seeing it.”

Pombe looked to one of the engineering groups, “Iheb, take your department and begin work on it immediately.”

The mon cala in question nodded, before he and two others swam out of the room.

“Now, more ideas people, I want to give these monstrosities explosive indigestion! Think!”

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A knock on my cabin door disturbed me out of my sleep. I rolled over on the comfy bed and just wished I could tell the galaxy to frak off.

Another knock and the door chime followed.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” I grumbled, a quick look at my chrono told me I’d only managed five hours of sleep.

I only had panties and a boob tube for sleeping wear, so I wasn’t exactly presentable. A quick burst of my senses told me Anakin was still asleep in the room to my right, Chewbacca was in the opposite room and my visitor…

I walked forward and thumbed the controls to let the door swish open.

“Your highness,” I bowed my head briefly to Lee-Char. “How can I help?”

“Sorry for interrupting your sleep, I barely got any myself,” he looked as embarrassed as a mon cala could. His emotions were a tight ball of anger and despair. “I just need to talk to someone who isn’t looking to me for…”

“All the answers and won’t judge you?” I asked lightly with a smile.

“Something like that,” he admitted.

“Ackbar is a knight captain, military, not exactly someone who can be an advisor for everything to you, Senator Tills expects a miracle from you just because you now technically wear the crown,” I surmised for him, then stepped aside to let him walk in.

“Yes, thank you.” I closed the door and sat down on the bed, whilst Lee-Char found a chair. He looked around the cabin with a wry smile. “You know I think this is only the third time in my life I’ve been in a non-aquatic space.”

“You seem to handle it very well,” I complimented.

He chuckled, “You didn’t see me at the airlock, I fell right onto my face. I last had familiarization training over two years ago.”

“Your duo of knight bodyguards down the hall will have an interesting story to tell when they retire,” I teased him.

“I’ll swear them to secrecy on pain of death,” he said mock-severely.

I laughed, “Now what can I help you with, your highness?”

His mood fell again, reaching into a pocket of his royal uniform to produce a small holo emitter. A tap brought up a screen that showed what looked like a reconnaissance video. A long line of tiny figures backlit by the darkening waters as dusk approached.

“Scouts are keeping an eye on the capital, they spotted this.”

The view zoomed in further and it showed mon cala bound around the wrists, with collars around the neck, being escorted out of the city by armed League quarren and the occasional aqua droid.

“Where are they being taken?”

“Towards the League base, the CIS Trident ships are there decloaked and waiting.”

“How old is this intel?”

“Four hours.”

Now I saw the problem. “They’re enslaving the people of the capital, they’ll likely take a fair number offworld before we can launch our counter-attack.”

“Exactly!” He stood up and awkwardly began pacing, still clearly struggling to find his land legs. “Yet here I am, their prince, safe, free, whilst entire families are broken apart or being lost to that devilsquid Dooku!”

“Until we counter their karkarodon weapon it will be pointless to attack, highness.”

“I checked in with the teams working on the problem, they’re still just arguing in circles. Every solution they devise is either impractical or there is just no time to implement. I’m very close to ordering them to ignore everything else, build disruptor cannons and strap them onto every sub we have.”

“We very recently had to make use of Tenloss disruptor weapons to survive a trandoshan attack in Kashyyyk. The difference was that the weapons were enemy salvage and it was asymmetric warfare.”

Lee-Char’s eyes stared at me in confusion, “Asymmetric?”

“Warfare when a weaker opponent uses unconventional strategies and tactics against a superior foe. We had to make use of whatever was on hand to survive.”

“And this doesn’t apply? My people are being enslaved, many knights and your troops have died against a superior technology that hasn’t been seen before.”

I hated this.

This kind of dilemma was exactly what Palpatine wanted. Compromising principles and law in the face of death, suffering and annihilation. How many times would we walk this slippery slope? If we excuse the small things, then it would become easier and easier to justify reaching for the unthinkable things, all in the name of survival. Disintegration tech was what I knew we would need in large numbers to fight and survive in the future against the Vong. Setting the mon cala on the path to integrate it into their future ships…

The price for this was now right in front of me.

“When all our troops are rested and fed, I will call Master Koon.”

“Are you bringing in more of them? I thought you were struggling to equip them for underwater combat.”

“Yes, but we’re not calling in more clones. The CIS has shown their hand at this point, I think it’s time we called in our Idiot’s Array.”

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“All right, we’re all here Ahsoka, what’s the rush?” Anakin asked.

“Yes, we’ve barely finished mounting the single disruptor cannon onto one of your Devilfish subs, you’ll get maybe two shots off before every enemy swarms the thing and destroys it,” Pombe said. “It’s a miracle we even managed that-”

“The longer we delay, the more people are marched into slavery-”

“And that’s horrible, yes,” Anakin agreed. “But we’ll achieve nothing if we can’t make a scratch against the-”

I held up a hand, “Naboo plasma.”

Anakin frowned and shared a look with Padme, who was floating next to him in the conference room.

“What about it, Ahsoka?” she asked.

“It’s unique in the galaxy as far as we know, a regenerating resource in the porous crust of Naboo, used in many applications - including the blaster on your hip.”

“Wait, are you suggesting that the karkarodon cyborgs can’t absorb Naboo plasma?” Pombe asked.

“I shot at them as we were fleeing, Ahsoka. There was no difference that I could see,” Padme pointed out.

“Of course not, your blaster is merely powered by the Naboo plasma in a cell, it still uses standard tibanna gas in the bolt. I’m talking about introducing a large amount of pure Naboo plasma for these shields to absorb.”

Anakin’s eyes lit up with realization of what I was getting at. “It requires specialized systems to make proper use of Naboo plasma due to its varied unique properties; there's no way these cyborg shields can work with it. The gungan boomas are literally the plasma stabilized and forced into a fragile shell. You could easily take out AATs with a large booma.”

“How certain are you of this?” Ackbar asked, he was thankfully looking much better and on the mend.

“It’s not like we can test this. The only way will be on the battlefield.”

“Let us finish at least four more disruptor cannons, that way you have something to fall back on,” Pombe suggested.

“How long?” I asked.

“We’ve got the procedure down, and it should go faster now. If I put all my teams to work on it, eight hours.”

“Even though we have the means now, we still need to decide on a battle plan to retake the capital. With the government complex in enemy hands, it means they have access to the system wide scanners and satellite network. They’ll see any ship approaching the planet and will have early warning of an attack,” Ackbar explained.

“So we’ll need to launch a covert mission to disable those, ideally just before the ship carrying the gungans makes a microjump beyond Dac’s mass shadow,” Anakin mused.

“Microjump? Is that implying what I think it is?” Ackbar looked very interested.

“Yes, but explanations can wait. Padme, contact the gungans, tell them to get ready for deployment.”

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I carefully gunned the throttle of the Devilfish sub and tried my best to ignore the large disruptor cannon rather crudely welded onto its hull.

The engineers had to strip out a lot of the internal life support equipment to make room for the systems and extra power generation. It was looking like something that Macgyver would be quite proud of. There was no hydrodynamics to the cannon at all and it was slowing down the sub quite badly, but not unacceptably.

Anakin was piloting another sub, whilst three senior clone troopers handled the remainder. We were only bringing two squads of mixed clones and mon cala knights with us, and in the interest of keeping everyone as rested as possible, they were all clinging to a dozen more subs in formation behind us.

The rest of the SCUBA troops were moving on another line of approach to the capital at a shallow depth, with no attempt at any stealth. They were the big distraction, which would let us move quick and quiet below as many thermoclines we could find, as close to the ocean floor whilst still remaining at the depths the clone SCUBA gear could handle.

Would Tamson buy this?

Doubtful. He knew that we didn’t have the troops to contest him and as far as he knew, we still didn’t have any answer to the karkarodon cyborgs. He knew that the shipyards didn’t have weapons ready for practical deployment and even if they did, the shields would hold long enough for his greater numbers to overwhelm us.

He would therefore assume we had a plan, another pincer attack from sea and space. Therefore he was going to prepare an entirely new trap for us.

What had he not used yet?

My mind supplied the answer and the probability lines confirmed it.

“Commander?” Lee-Char, hanging on the sub’s railing, looked at me with clear worry. 

“Yes, your highness?”

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

“As sure as anyone can be in war. There is an old saying, ‘you go to war with the army you have, not the one you want’.” I turned to my left where Chewie was hanging on to the sub. “Chewie, you looked at the modifications to the sub, what do you think? Is it going to blow up on us?”

“These mon cala do amazing work for having such little time.” The big wookiee shook his head. “As long as we keep our fire rate reasonable. They’re using ocean water as coolant for the cannon, not efficient at all but that’s the compromise they had to make to speed up manufacture.”

One of the mon cala scouts was leading our way at the moment, using the knowledge of the terrain to send us through paths, gullies and even ancient lava tunnels to obscure our approach.

Our journey to the city outskirts was just over three hours this time and we concealed ourselves in a deep cave shrouded with plant growth to observe the distant city.

It was now local morning and the sunlight was steadily illuminating more and more of the terrain, the water turning from black void to bright blue and green.

There was still vast amounts of life in the city as you didn’t empty a place home to over a billion mon cala and quarren in one day. We could see that the Separatists and Tamson were trying their level best though. There wasn’t a water lane between the buildings that didn’t have squads of League quarren and droids patrolling or rounding up mon cala citizens.

My Farsight also picked up that the mon cala citizenry were not taking this lying down.

An explosion from a building destroyed eight droids instantly and killed four armed quarren who had tried to enter it.

A mon cala used a hunting blaster to nail the optical sensor of a droid.

A small gang of citizens used traditional spear guns to silently take out five League quarren, before commandeering their scooter and weaponry.

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw numerous other examples of innovative and creative traps being used all over the city. I also made many mental notes to remember some of them for the future.

“What could be amusing about that, commander?” Lee-Char gestured at his capital city under occupation.

“Your people are resisting. In some cases, in a rather humorous manner, your highness. Do you wish to see?”

“Really? How?” he asked with astonishment.

“Take my hand.”

The moment his webbed hand touched my gloved palm, I pushed what I was seeing through the Force to his mind very gently.

I could immediately tell my differing perceptions was a problem, as his mind didn’t know what to make of my form of hearing and other senses, so I filtered out everything except vision and even there was a problem. Eventually I managed to channel it so it seemed like to him, he was watching from only his left eye.

“Amazing,” he murmured with wonder. “Is this how you see the world, commander?”

“Somewhat, your highness. You can see your people are fighting back. There is still hope in them and that is because of you. They know you’re still out there or else Tamson would’ve paraded you out to them already.”

I let go of his hand.

The mon cala scout returned a few minutes later and bowed to the prince.

“Highness, our path seems clear, we must use minimal thrust on the subs if we want to avoid detection.”

Lee-Char visibly steeled himself, “Thank you, lieutenant. We begin now.”

The assault squads pushed themselves out of the cave, through the foliage and we immediately nosed the subs down and dove into the deeps of the city.

We were already at twenty meters and let gravity do most of the work at giving us acceleration.

My eyes couldn’t help but glance at the depth gauge in my HUD.

In less than fifteen seconds we were already at fifty-five meters and the yawning, hungry deeps below seemed to go on forever. It didn’t help that we also had to maintain light discipline and as the depth meter kept ticking upwards, so the light began to dim.

The nearest building soon became the only visual reference we had.

Finally, we reached the bottom at 130 meters.

I did not want to think about the amount of water above me, pushing on my armor. At this depth, everything was a hue of ultra dark green and we could only vaguely make out each other’s shapes in the water.  

From here we had to communicate with directional links to minimize any electronic signature and only use the sub’s propulsion in the shortest of bursts, using our slowly undulating legs to add more thrust and steering. SCUBA systems were also switched to rebreathing mode.

It was my turn to lead, as I had to sense and temporarily short out the hard line sensors at this depth.

Our progress through the city was even slower now, as Tamson had aqua droids at this depth as well, watching out for exactly this trick we were pulling now.

We tried to avoid contact as much as possible, waiting for patrols to pass by, but it was inevitable that we would have to open a gap with subtle force at some point.

That moment came just a few hundred meters from the government complex.

The droid patrols here were in groups of three, maintaining a perfect clockwise route around the complex, with spacing of barely fifty meters between them. 

‘Ready, Snips?’ Anakin thought.

‘Ready, Skyguy.’

We could hear the steady whine of the aqua droid’s propellers and active thrusters approaching in the dark gloom.

Hidden behind the looming curved edge of a building, we waited for the moment.

Now.

I reached out with the Force, pulling on the electricity within the droids and twisted, adding power from the ambient flow of electrons everywhere.

Inside the droids, current suddenly went in directions it was never meant to and voltages spiked beyond safe limits.

The three aqua droids sparked and died, their propulsion systems failing.

Anakin reached out next, his telekinesis grabbed hold and pulled the droids away and out of sight.

“Chrono is ticking, move!” he ordered.

Despite our hurry now, we had to keep noise discipline. I feathered the sub’s thrusters with the lightest of bursts and through the Force grabbed hold of the other subs to give them a slight Push.

With that, we were inside the complex perimeter and the job now was to actually find the building that housed our objective. It would’ve been quite easy from above, but it was a different story from below.

The building was smaller and suspended between two larger buildings that were built into the sea floor. It was only fifteen meters in height and was one of five such suspended buildings in the complex. All the antennas and transmitter dishes had to be as high as possible to minimize the amount of water interference in the signals that worked in the EM spectrum. Hyperspatial signals didn’t care, but not everything could be done in that realm. 

“M8, begin passive scan.”

“Yes mistress, scanning… Sorry, mistress, no signals detected at this depth, we need to be higher.”

“It was worth a shot anyway.”

I gave a gesture upward.

Anakin nodded, the squads turned our subs upward and we began to ascend.

The first local thermocline approached rapidly and at ninety meters we stopped again to take readings.

The next thermocline at forty meters acted as a ceiling for our scans.

‘No droid patrols at this depth,’ Anakin thought.

‘They don’t have infinite droids, Skyguy. It seems like our diversionary approach is working at least somewhat. Oh, by the way, Tamson has a trap waiting for us.’

I could feel Anakin’s glare at me, ‘And you didn’t mention this before, why?’

‘Well, our disruptor cannons will go far to blunt it and the gungans will come as a nasty surprise to Tamson. He’s clever, ruthless but has a substantial superiority complex. He believes all land walkers and even other aquatic cultures are inferior by nature.’

‘A little more warning than this next time, Snips.’

‘You know how it works, Skyguy.’

We resumed our slow, silent ascent and the moment we poked our heads above the forty meter mark…

“I have it mistress, bearing 103 at fifteen meters,” M8 reported.

I gestured immediately in that direction.

The squad whirled around to their right.

“I see it,” Anakin said. There was only one suspended building in that direction.

“Everyone, spherical defense formation around the general,” I ordered.

Anakin stared at his objective for a moment, “Send the signal, Ahsoka.”

I tapped my comlink as the squads moved, even as I could feel Anakin call on the Force.

He raised his hands and slowly closed them into fists.

The Force became a hurricane of invisible power that concentrated to a singular point.

One of the suspension struts, nearly half a meter of solid durasteel alloy began shaking and trembling.

It audibly groaned in protest and acted like a giant xylophone on the water, as it vibrated, causing huge amounts of cavitation.

The strut snapped with an awful, high pitched tearing of metal, a sound that traveled for kilometers.

With the structural forces compromised, the loads moving in directions that had never been intended, a chain reaction began that caused more struts to bend and break. It happened in the blink of an eye and the entire strut simply sheared itself off from the building it was supporting.

The breaches caused at the connection points were so violent, it caused water displacement that the ocean reclaimed with a fury, sending out shockwaves.

Gravity took its inexorable hold with an eager vengeance.

The building began listing away from us and finally tore free of the last supports it had before being pulled down.

It crashed and bounced off another building, denting and tearing its exterior plating in an awful racket that I felt even in my lungs.

M8, bless her, turned on the sonic dampeners in my helmet instantly at the proper frequency to spare my montrals.

Thank goodness that worked, thanks Skyguy, I thought privately. It was nice to know that now I had some effective protection from that form of attack.

The communication building was now finally free to plunge into the depths below and it went briefly dark as it switched over to emergency internal power. It wouldn’t matter though as all the sensitive antennas and dishes on top were practically wrecked.

“Enemy contact, 270!” shouted a trooper. 

Three aqua droids had spotted us.

That side of our formation immediately opened fire.

Chewie’s bowcaster roared in answer, punching a hole through the torso of one.

The second droid took a storm of hits, turning it to a wrecked sieve.

The third died when I willed my Destroy Droid technique to wreck its internals. It visibly sparked and twitched before it lost all power and sank.

“Well, that’s the door chime rung,” Anakin said wryly, igniting his lightsaber.

The Darksaber’s crystalline burst chimed in the water as I ignited it, along with my other blades.

My comlink chimed with a signal.

“The Revenant is now powering through Dac’s mass shadow; they’ll deliver the gungans in approximately fourteen minutes. Our diversionary attack in the west has engaged the enemy.”

“Now we just have to survive that long,” Anakin sighed and pointed to the east, in an upper quadrant.

Two squads of aqua droids were coming and three cyborg jellyfish slowly coming up behind them.

“Frakking shabla.”

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He awkwardly tightened the armor on his chest and still couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not.

Quite a few of his warriors really didn’t like it, especially as it slowed them down in the water, but there was no choice if his people wanted to truly be able to defend themselves in a galaxy at war. They had trained with all the new methods and techniques that cooperation with the Naboo had given them and Roos Tarpals couldn’t help but feel slightly confident for the first time in over ten years. The harsh lesson of the Trade Federation invasion still cast its ugly shadow. Now it was time to bring some light to chase it away.

He pulled out the power pack and reinserted it back into the silvery, even beautiful Naboo rifle in his hands. No longer would they be fighting with spears, atlatls, electropoles and cestas against the damnable CIS or other enemies of Naboo. They would still use boomas, those were too useful to leave behind, but new methods of shooting them were being devised by gungan and naboo engineers.

He turned around and regarded the twelve thousand warriors of the Gungan Grand Army that was under his command.

Now he truly felt like his heart wanted to burst with pride.

They were all in formation, in blocks of eight by eight, something carried over from the old traditions that couldn’t be shaken. It was only useful on land but kept everything organized. Their rifles held at what the Naboo called ‘port arms’, gleamed in the overhead lighting of the hangar decks of the massive star destroyer.

Nearby movement attracted his attention and his eyes widened.

“Representative Binks! Holster that weapon immediately!” he snapped in gunganese.

Jar-Jar was fiddling with the blaster and its barrel was dangerously close to being aimed at some warriors in the nearby formation.

Roos cursed himself for his reflex order, as Binks jerked with fright and the blaster pistol sailed into the air.

Every nearby warrior deployed their energy shields from their forearm gauntlets in the next moment.

His eyes followed the blaster as it began its journey to the hanger decking, a few running steps later he plucked it out of the air by the barrel.

Roos checked the weapon and was gratified to note that its safety was on at least. “Representative, you will only draw this weapon once we’re in the water, is that understood?”

“Yes, General,” Jar-Jar sheepishly took back the weapon. 

The instructors had tried to get the excitable veteran of the Naboo invasion trained on the rifles. Both the naboo and gungans had given up when the senate representative had somehow nearly burned down one of the gun ranges with it.

Roos thanked Oma-Oma that Boss Lyonie at least had more sense than the old Boss Nass and had not given Binks his generalship back.

He felt the ship begin to shudder under his feet as they hit the atmosphere of Dac.

“General Tarpals.” A naval clone approached. “We’re five minutes to the drop zone. The battle has already begun in the waters, so you’ll be dropping into enemy fire.”

“Tanken Lieutenant,” Roos nodded. How he disliked Galactic Basic, why couldn’t the galaxy have developed a language slightly easier for the gungan mouth and tongue to speak?

He walked forward to address his warriors, giving one brief blast of the horn to gather the attention of those in the back. He tapped his comlink to carry his voice to everyone.

“Warriors of the Gungan Army, we are here not only to rescue an old friend of our people, but also to show the galaxy that we deserve to stand next to the Naboo!”

A shout of agreement echoed throughout the hangar bays.

“We are here to fight and show the soulless CIS that if they return to our world, that the waters will be defended!”

“YES!”

“That the Naboo don’t stand alone!”

“YES!”

“We go now to aid the mon cala, another people of the sea. A mighty people, who build massive ships that roam the stars. In them, I see what we also could be in the future. They could become our teachers and guides. What say you?”

“YESSSS!”

“The quarren are our enemy as well, but only fire on them if they are armed. Understood?”

“Yes, bombad general!”

The giant starboard doors of the hangar bay opened to his left and wind began blasting through the massive space.

Roos turned to walk to the edge.

Beyond was an alien sky and a blue ocean below stretching to the horizon.

The destroyer was slowly lowering itself, the thrust and repulsor fields churning the water, radiating outward in rapid rippling waves.

“Stand ready!” he shouted.

Thousands of rifles were charged, “Ready!”

Roos looked down, judging the distance as the massive ship lowered itself to a point where the ventral hull was almost kissing the water surface.

He shouted the traditional call to battle, blasting his horn to echo throughout the hangar bay.

In the time it took to secure his horn to his belt, a dozen warriors had already leaped over the edge, diving head first into the ocean.

He ran, jumping from the last secure foothold on the deck, pushing himself four meters away from the hull, before gravity took over.

With practice and experience of thousands of dives, he positioned his body for a water entry.

Moments later the warm embrace of the alien ocean surrounded him with barely any shock, his body cutting through the surface smoothly, with only the tiniest of splashes in his wake.

He immediately kicked his legs once, powering into a descent aided by gravity to make room for more of his warriors.

All around him the ocean churned as gungan after gungan dove in.

Below him he saw a vast underwater city rapidly approaching. Even the mighty Otoh Gunga in the depths of Naboo was insignificant in comparison. The style of building wasn’t to his taste, but it was impressive nevertheless and only solidified the wisdom of pursuing a closer alliance with the people of these waters.

But it was a place in turmoil.

Below blaster shots were being traded and he could hear the many sounds of underwater battle all throughout the vast city.

A small group of clones, mon cala and two Jedi were under siege, using the spire of a building for cover against a horde of droids who had been made to fight in the water. There were also some giant abominations that seemed to be both machine and ocean creature! Clearly the CIS was not content with merely exploiting but also perverting nature in service to their war machine!

Just the sight of these made it clear to Roos that the danger to his people was even greater and he would make sure to bring the remains of both back to Boss Lyonie.

His comlink began chirping. “Skywalker to Tarpals! You see the big green jellyfish cyborgs… booma it. Booma them now!”

Roos could immediately understand the urgency, as those jellyfish began shooting mounted Repeaters. He could also see that no weapons were having an effect on them.

“Understood General,” he returned, switching frequencies to his warriors. “All warriors, drop one of your boomas only on the big green machines! Open fire on the rest! Shields up!”

Roos pulled one of his own boomas from his belt, twirled around and threw it at the closest jellyfish cyborg.

He brought his left arm forward, activated his shield, tucked his body behind it, peaked his rifle beside his shield, aimed and pulled the trigger.

Hundreds of boomas began dropping through the water, followed by aimed volleys of hundreds of blue blaster bolts.

He watched as the jellyfish took many booma hits, the precious Naboo plasma flaring and sparking on the shield.

The creature began writhing, sparks and shorted electricity snaking between its long tentacles. Its movement became chaotic, the green luster flickering on and off. The Repeaters on its side stopped firing.

More boomas landed and now chunks began being scorched off.

Blaster fire also began hitting it, tearing holes into its metal and organic hide.

Finally, it stopped moving and began sinking - dead.

All the droids suffered a similar fate. The sheer amount of boomas and massed blaster fire was impossible to avoid.

Any fire that the droids tried to send upward simply bounced off the gungan shields.

Roos watched in awe and no small amount of satisfaction as nearly an entire battalion of these aqua droids were swept from the waters within less than half a minute.

The Jedi broke from their cover and boosted through the water towards him.

“General Tarpals, thank you for your timely intervention,” said Skywalker.

Roos powered down his shield, bowing his head to the two Heroes of Naboo. It was amazing how the years marched on. He remembered that little Jedi boy on the steps of the Theed palace well and now here he was, very tall, with his own apprentice, who had also saved his home from the vile machinations of the CIS. The exploits and name of Jedi Ahsoka Tano was well known among the gungans.

“It’s mesa honor, general. What do yousa need from us?”

“We need to take back the government complex below us. The majority of our troops are fighting elsewhere in a diversion. I need you to send at least one regiment of your warriors to bail them out, flanking the enemy in the process. Once that is done, the combined force must return.”

Roos nodded, tapped his comlink and spoke rapidly to one of his gungan commanders. 

It wasn’t long before the 3rd Gung Battaltion, 2300 gungan warriors were organized and rapidly swam away to aid their allies.

Tano stiffened, bringing her lightsabers up and pointed to the east of the complex. “Ready your gungans, general.”

Roos looked in that direction…

Nine large Trident assault ships appeared just one kilometer away out of nothing but the ocean itself.

Cloaking devices, he realized with dread. That the cursed CIS could even make their ships invisible in the ocean was not going to make the Bosses happy.

They twirled and rotated, opening their articulated tentacles, the internal bay opened and sleek alien forms began to swim out.

“Ahsoka, how many karkarodons could we be facing?” asked the General.

“Assuming they squeezed themselves in, about 1200. And we have no idea how many Tridents are just waiting to decloak to deliver more.”

Hull panels on the Tridents opened, revealing Repeaters and other support weaponry.

“Perfect, just perfect.”

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A/N: In the timeless words of Hannibal Smith, 'I love it when a plan comes together.' Ripples and butterflies galore in terms of the gungans, some planned, others just happy accidents. Naboo is now a whole different prospect to invade. Hope you enjoyed, have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 84

In the annals of his people’s history, of all the words said by the kings and queens of Dac, Prince Lee-Char knew that he would probably forever go down in history as the perfect example of foolish naivety. Not to mention the monarch with the worst timing in the galaxy.

How else would you explain the first shot of the Dac civil war happening the instant after he had said: “I do not believe the quarren will attack.”

It was a bitter fruit to taste.

It was made even worse as he beheld so many mon cala knights taking cover behind the spires of the government complex and firing their blaster spears in defense of him. Every moment he blinked, he saw a knight jerk and begin floating downward in death.   

Attacking the complex was a massive formation of quarren and aqua droids - he couldn’t even count the number of people who had been subjects of his father just last week, now doing the unthinkable.

Here he was, floating in the cover behind the central spire’s roof and he didn’t even have a weapon in hand. What kind of king was he? He technically didn’t even have the throne yet, but every mon cala already looked to him for leadership.

The only thing that was letting him keep his own composure, was the fact that he at least had Captain Ackbar, Jedi General Skywalker and Senator Amidala at his side.

A torpedo detonated nearby and Lee-Char cursed inwardly as everyone ducked behind their cover. The hammer blow of expanding water caught two knights on the edge of the building and he forced his eyes to remain open and take in the grisly sight of their remains settling and dropping off the side.

The sizzling singing of distant blaster shots was briefly muted as the shockwave of the water reclaiming the void washed over them. He had to briefly pull off his organic gill, to regain equilibrium in his ears, before reattaching it.

“What are your orders, highness?” Ackbar muttered in the aftermath, keeping his voice low. It was doubtful that the sound of his words would travel far in the chaotic battle, but he understood the necessity. All it would take would be a quarren with a sensitive acoustic sensor listening from range…

Lee-Char looked into the battle.

He was not trained for this. Even the knights had only ever fought in simulation!

The only thing he could immediately see was that the mon cala had a definite advantage using the complex buildings as cover, whilst the qua- no, whilst the enemy had to charge forward in the open water. They were much easier targets and the number of their dead floating downward was far greater. The problem was he could already see that the number of knights who had been on hand when the attack started meant they were effectively outnumbered.

Attack would give up the only advantage, retreating might be possible, but that would be exposing their backs to the enemy.

“We hold the line, captain.”

“If I may make a suggestion,” Skywalker looked to Ackbar. Lee-Char wasn’t the best at reading alien expressions, but the Jedi was clearly unhappy. “It is one thing to have a commander, general or captain in the front line, but your monarch and head of state is an entirely different story. The prince needs to be in a safe position with a command holotank.”

Senator Amidala, who had her own Naboo blaster in hand, coughed for some reason and gave Skywalker a complicated expression, which caused him to roll his eyes.

“I understand the practicality, general,” Ackbar stated, with his own blaster spear raised above his head, floating next to Lee-Char. “That decision is up to the prince.”

Lee-Char might not have any training in the knightly arts, but he was merely a young adult and not a child. He knew politics, leadership and how important the ‘voice’ of the Throne was. His decision and course was obvious.

“The morale of my people is shaken, general. If they see me retreat from battle, they will lose heart. I have to stay here with my people. Captain Ackbar, keep our troops in defense-”

General Skywalker moved so quickly through the water that he nearly left a void in his wake, his lightsaber ignited in his right hand, whilst his left hand made a clenched fist.

Five torpedoes that had been streaking towards their position in the central spire, which would’ve been enough to utterly destroy it and kill everyone, detonated in the distance.

The hammer blows of hydro compression shot outward in a large sphere, killing many surprised quarren attackers and wrecking numerous aqua droids. The ocean reclaimed the voids hungrily sending shockwaves outward that threw the attackers in disarray, but the mon cala knights among the spires were also buffeted and some pulled out of cover.

The knights rushed back, but most were quickly cut down by the storm of blaster bolts.

Lee-Char struggled to keep his composure at witnessing such a clear feat of the Force in action.

“If they’re smart they’ll stop using torpedoes after that at least,” General Skywalker floated back down.

“Captain Ackbar, how long can we keep this defense going?” Lee-Char asked after he was sure his voice wouldn't squeak.

“As things stand now, long enough for the Republic to arrive, then we go on the offensive. If they capture this complex we lose much of the infrastructure of government and defense.” Ackbar turned to the line of knights shooting in front of them. “Watch your upper quadrants, they get close enough they can shoot down on us!”

A problem that quickly turned to reality.

General Skywalker hovered back upwards, staying above Senator Amidala and began deflecting bolts that were shooting into their cover from aqua droids and quarren.

The senator swam up to grab hold of the general’s waist, literally using the Jedi for cover as she fired her Naboo blaster at the enemy from under his arms. It made such an odd, disturbing noise in the water, sounding almost like a mon cala infant briefly screaming.

He wished he had a blaster spear. He had at least trained in their use for self-defense. Yet that would complicate things for his defenders, who would have to divide their focus. He watched as Ackbar used his own body as a shield for his prince, shouting orders to the knights nearby and over the radio. He would also fire his weapon occasionally into the distance.

The thumping boom of exploding torpedoes rippled through the water.

Lee-Char watched in horror as an entire building spire on the left flank collapsed, along with many dead knights, reduced to charnel and blood in the water, falling into the deeps.

The enemy tried again to fire torpedoes from their water speeders at the central building.

General Skywalker had to teach them the error of doing that again to them.

The water began to visibly stain with blood.

The general dove back down, bringing the senator back into cover.

Lee-Char was about to ask why when three aqua droids and five quarren popped into view, right in front of the defending knights.

How they had gotten there he couldn’t understand at that moment. Ackbar pushed him down against the roof.

He saw only snippets of the fight as he struggled instinctually against his captain.

The Jedi general twirling in the water impossibly, his lightsaber cutting two aqua droids in half, then deflecting the shot of a quarren straight back.

The quarren’s head flash fried and exploded.

Ackbar stabbed another quarren through the chest, firing the other end to hit an aqua droid, which Amidala finished off with multiple shots from her blaster.

A mon cala knight beheaded a quarren, only for an aqua droid’s left claw to grab the knight’s head and squeeze.

The general was there and his blade sizzled through the droid’s arm, then torso.

The beleaguered knight pulled off the dead droid arm, his eyes wide with fright and thanks, before grimly shooting another quarren sticking their head over the edge of the building.

The general made a pulling gesture with a closed fist, causing three quarren to uncontrollably find themselves surging through the water towards him, before his blade gave one long slash that relieved all of their heads from their bodies.

Lee-Char could only stare in horror as one of the quarren heads landed within arms reach - the gaping expression of surprise and fear forever captured on its face.

Everything became strangely distant and his ears seemed to just not work properly.

It was as if that quarren head had some spell and Lee-Char couldn’t find any will to move or even look away from it.

Those milky gray eyes screamed in judgment at him.

If only he had found the right words at the Grand Conclave, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

Why didn’t he find them? If they were so crucial to his people mon cala and quarren alike, why had those words not come to him?

Now they were dying in a war that had seemed so distant just yesterday. It was a land walker’s war, they had said. It would never reach the pristine waters of Dac.

Yet here they were, dying in a civil war that Lee-Char had considered utterly ridiculous and impossible just yesterday. 

If there was this much discontent among the quarren, why had his father hidden it from him?

“Majesty!”

Where was Ackbar? Hadn’t he been right above me? Lee-Char thought dazedly.

He looked around, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the dead quarren. Instead, it was General Skywalker above him, his form moving through the water in a way that seemed impossible for any land walker. His lightsaber left trails of blue in the prince’s eyes as it defended and cut down in equal measure with a breathtaking economy of motion.

Then he saw Captain Ackbar, who was lying down against the roof, both his big eyes wracked with pain from a spear wound, whilst Senator Amidala was grimly performing emergency first aid with one hand, whilst her other was still occasionally shooting.

No.

He’d be damned to the deeps if he just laid here and stayed stupefied at his own failure for the entire battle.

He found the will to move from somewhere, a place he couldn’t even define. He rolled over and his hand closed around the hilt of Ackbar’s fallen spear blaster.

He aimed and fired without even thinking, the blast catching a quarren climbing onto the roof.

Lee-Char pushed off the roof, giving a double kick against the water and surging his spear into the back of a quarren that had just been about to deliver the killing blow against a surprised knight.

He kept the now dead body impaled on his spear and twisted through the water.

The dead quarren took the blast from an aqua droid, before Lee-Char’s momentum carried him around and he fired the blaster end of his spear. The droid took the shot just below its rectangular optical sensor. It created enough delay for Amidala to shoot it as well, then Skywalker was there, cutting the entire droid lengthwise in two.

Lee-Char pulled his weapon free and just began shooting.

The world narrowed as the decision was made.

There was only the enemy, his weapon, moving, aiming and shooting.

He was only broken from the battle haze when he felt the hand of General Skywalker suddenly on his shoulder.

He belatedly realized he was pulling in oxygen through both his organic gills and mouth - the latter of which was quite uncomfortable to do for most mon cala.

“Easy highness,” Skywalker said and his words seemed to ripple through Lee’s being somehow. Which was good, because the impulse had been there to stab the spear behind him in reflex. “You did good, we managed to repel the immediate assault on this spire, look.” He pointed upward.

Out of the sun shining through the shallow waters, diving directly on top of the battle was what looked like hundreds of figures.

They moved in a perfect formation, among them, some were being pulled by armed subs. 

They opened fire.

Blue blaster bolts streaked down like rain on land, onto the backs of the enemy.

The Republic was here.

The clone troopers fired with amazing accuracy from such a long range. It was a rather astonishing feat for land walkers in such an alien environment.

Many torpedoes launched from the Republic formation. They moved so fast, the vacuum left in their wake boiled the ocean and they detonated among the clustered formations of aqua droids still approaching the government complex.

Lee-Char couldn’t count how much wreckage fell into the depths from just that attack.

“Argh,” Ackbar coughed water in pain. He fumbled for the radio link, “All knights, break from cover and attack! For the Prince!”

“FOR THE PRINCE!”

The shout echoed through the entire area and would definitely be heard for many kilometers.

Lee-Char watched as his people burst into the open waters all over the complex, their spear blasters firing as they swam with speed into the enemy formations. The clone troopers closed range into the enemy from above and there he could see another three Jedi lightsabers in the distance, two green and one black?

What an odd color, he thought. He’d never known those legendary weapons could be like that.

The battle raged and raged.

Clone, mon cala and quarren bodies began being claimed by the deep.

The ranges had now shrunk to melee range between the combatants and it was taking a terrible toll.

Spear blade met spear blade.

The clones had vibroblade attachments to the underside of their rifles and Lee-Char could hear the distinctive rapid ripples of those weapons in water.

They sunk into quarren flesh and cut through droid steel.

Out of the melee a Republic sub charged straight through, firing its laser cannons. It headed straight for the central spire. It was the Jedi.

Lee-Char could see that he had been mistaken. The three blades belonged to a single Jedi.

The green blades supernaturally swinging and twirling through the water above their back, whilst only the black blade was in their hand.

Any blast was deflected and any droid or quarren who came close didn’t even have time to realize the Jedi was there, before they were cut down.

The sub came to stop above them.

The Jedi gave a few pulling strokes, diving down straight towards Ackbar.

“You’re late,” Skywalker chastised the Jedi, but there was humor in his tone.

“Sorry master,” she said lightly, turning off her blades.

She hovered to a stop next to the injured knight captain and placed her armored hands directly on his wound.

Ackbar immediately breathed easier, no longer pulling in oxygen so harshly. “A pleasure to meet you, Captain Ackbar. Jedi Commander Ahsoka Tano at your service and I’ll be healing you today.”

“The pleasure is mine, commander… thank you.” Ackbar wheezed slightly.

Tano nodded at the Senator. “Thank you for keeping him stable long enough for me to arrive.”

Amidala nodded, placing a companionable hand on the Jedi’s shoulder.

Lee-Char gave one last check of his surroundings, a small squad of knights had remained behind to keep their Prince and Captain safe, despite Ackbar’s order. Skywalker was also staying vigilant with the knights, and talking over the radio with the clones.

He swam closer to Tano and Ackbar.

“Will he be alright?”

“Yes,” Tano said with a distracted air. “He had some internal bleeding, that’s closed up now.” She pulled out a bacta patch from her belt pouch and another device that almost looked like a tiny blaster. It was poked directly into Ackbar’s wound before an odd substance squirted out, which blossomed into greater volume and sealed it. The patch was slapped down and it glowed blue as it made a permanent seal on the captain’s abdomen. “Now Captain Ackbar, you’ll soon be feeling as if you’re still fighting fit, but that’s a combination of painkillers in the sealant and the Force. You are only destined for a medical bay in the next few minutes.”

“Nonsense, my place is with the prince,” Ackbar objected immediately.

“This prince will order you to sickbay if you persist, captain,” Lee-Char threatened with his best attempt at a stern voice, which didn’t really land well. “If you die…”

He didn’t really want to contemplate what would happen in that case.

Tano swam upwards slightly to gain a look at the battle. “Master, we’re pushing the enemy back.”

“Yes, but at a heavy cost. This underwater fighting is as brutal as we feared,” Skywalker commented grimly.

“THE ENEMY IS RETREATING!”

A loud cheer echoed through the water.

“Captain Ackbar, should we pursue?” came the audible question over the radio.

The captain leaned his head wearily against the edge of the roof. He looked at Skywalker, then Lee-Char, “No, hold at the complex perimeter. We’ve won this round. We need to see to our wounded and regroup, buy time for more knight companies to arrive from other cities.”

“Assuming that those companies aren’t bogged down with fighting as well,” Tano pointed out.

“Indeed, Commander. Indeed.”

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“This is not going to be easy,” Anakin said as we stared at a holo of Dac with every major and minor population center across the planet.

“We’ll be able to fight for the capital, but it will be up to the mon cala to secure the other contested cities.” Nine cities had an angry red halo around their icon, denoting some form of active fighting occurring. I tapped one such city called Ukemgab, the holo promptly brought up live scans and visual feeds of the fighting.

It really made me appreciate how nice we landlubbers actually had it on a ground based battlefield.

Cover on Dac was only given by buildings and in the shallows where there might be underwater mountains and slopes, but those were few and far between, given where both species had preferred to create their cities. Battles in the water inevitably turned into a decision of when you would commit to closing range and engaging in close quarters combat with blaster spears.

It generally began with sub scooter launched torpedo duels taking the place of artillery.

Both sides would then mass fire their blasters to take out these torpedoes before they could detonate. That there was no dedicated anti-torpedo point defense sub was simply because the people of Dac had never had to fight on this scale underwater for thousands of years.

They were getting a very bloody lesson and relearning it before my eyes.

Torpedoes also generally forced the battle into close range, since you didn’t want your enemy to take long range pot shots at you constantly. They had to intermingle their lines to make those weapons impractical to use in many cases.

The other tactical decider of many battles was the use of the transport tubes in cities.

Both sides had initially kept to an unspoken rule that they were never to be targeted and fighting would only occur on the exits or entrances to the system.

That had barely lasted for the first day of the battle.

It wasn’t long until reports began to circulate of quarrens placing proximity mines in the tubes.

This slowed everything down further as neither side could now risk using them. The mines weren’t smart enough to distinguish between species as that would make them too expensive to deploy en masse or there would be too few of them.

Now the only way to get anywhere was to swim and there were just too few subs and scooters to go around. It further locked down the civilian population, including the flow of food and supplies.

“It won’t be long until we get civvies pouring out of the cities to hunt for food,” I said.

“The tube network is the only thing that connects them to their aquaculture centers,” Anakin swiped the holo to bring up a 2D representation of Coral City. “They do have large intercity passenger subs, perhaps those can be retasked for food delivery.”

“Could work, but we’d be making them prime targets for attack.”

Currently the government complex and every building within a nine hundred meter sphere was designated as ‘friendly secured territory’, with the mon cala knights and clones manning the perimeter. That was all our current numbers allowed us to secure without diluting our strength to unacceptable levels. In comparison to the rest of the city it was a frighteningly small volume.

Beyond that was a ‘neutral zone’ of three kilometers, which meant that sensors and sonars of various types, that were carried by mon cala, could reliably detect any active noise or movement source. That was deceptive though, the local thermocline sat at a depth of forty meters in the city, meaning anything deeper than that was essentially invisible to a sonar sensor above it.

The rest of the city was assumed enemy territory, but the government complex had hardline sensor feeds from there which would at least give plenty of prior warning of an imminent attack.

I tapped the controls of the holotank, initiating a connection to Master Koon.

“General Skywalker, Commander Tano, good to see you survived that battle. The reports are rather harrowing.”

“It was, thankfully the mon cala are able to treat our wounded down here as well. What’s the situation in space?” Anakin asked.

“They’re still holding in Ruisto, but their Trident assault ships are very busy going back and forth, both in number and frequency of trips.”

“More aqua droids, the number they had at the first battle was rather pathetic to be honest,” Anakin manipulated the city holo to a 3D format and twisted it around, looking at it from different perspectives.

“Master, how many more SCUBA troopers are ready?”

“One battalion can be dropped to reinforce at any time, the question that remains is where?”

The doors to the large briefing room we had been assigned by the mon cala opened and Lee-Char swam inside, followed by four knights and Chewie, who was looking more comfortable in the deep water with every passing hour.

The big wookiee had achieved many kills with his bowcaster, but his size had made him an attractive target for the quarren. His Aegis armor had thankfully saved his life from the blaster shot that had tagged him in the chest.

“Master Jedi,” Lee-Char greeted. “On behalf of my people, thank you for your assistance in the battle.”

“You’re welcome, highness,” Anakin smiled. “There’s going to be plenty more battles before this is over though.”

“No doubt,” Lee-Char sighed sadly. “Whilst Captain Ackbar is in recovery, it falls to me to command the knights. I would please request that a liaison be assigned to me so that our forces can better coordinate.”

“My padawan would be more than happy to fulfill such a role.”

I was very tempted to needle Anakin in the ribs, but maintained my professionalism.  

“It’ll be my honor, highness. Just to inform you, Lieutenant Chewbacca here is part and parcel to me.”

Lee-Char smiled, “I’ve already talked to Chewbacca on the way here from sickbay. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen a wookiee and could never imagine one visiting us down here. He fought for my people and risked his life, therefore he is always welcome on Dac.” 

Chewie thumped his chest in thanks.

“Is there anything else, highness?” Anakin asked.

“Yes, we’ve received some disturbing intelligence. We believe we’ve located where the Isolation League and Separatists are staging from.” He swam forward and inserted a data chit into the holotank. The blue marble sphere of Dac appeared and it zoomed into a region roughly under eighty kilometers south-east from Coral City and a depth of 170 meters. “These are the Nuxz kelp forests. The density of the foliage and animal life make it an ideal place for keeping your acoustic signature low and hidden at long range. It’s also below two thermoclines. Scouts sent back these images.”

At that depth, sunlight was quite diminished, giving everything a dark green hue. On the ocean floor was a large ugly structure that was far removed from the graceful organic lines of mon cala architecture. These were two saucer shaped structures, a larger one acting as the base for a smaller, interlinked with struts and supports that gave me the impression that someone had taken an edgy Goth aesthetic and applied it to an underwater construction.

Three battalions of aqua droids were assembled here, hovering in perfect formations in front of this base.

“How old is this intelligence?” Master Koon asked.

“Five hours,” Lee-Char answered. “Captain Ackbar believes this force has one goal - the capture of the Star Coral Shipyards.”

The holo changed to show an overhead tactical view of the famous underwater shipyards. Its scale was truly gargantuan, it might as well have been a city in its own right, measuring upwards of thirty kilometers by twenty four in surface area, but given that this was underwater, it also had the third dimension to play with. Most of the industrial facilities were clustered on the ocean floor at a depth of two hundred meters, with the living and administrative spaces staying above the more comfortable thirty meter mark, all of it contained within a natural valley.

These shipyards were forty three kilometers northeast of the capital city and a lot of the shipyard workers made their home here.

“Do we have any word from the shipyard itself?” I asked curiously.

“Yes, it seems the Isolation League had recruited a fair number of key quarren workers beforehand. When the war began, they used their privileged access to lock the shipyards down into a security mode and scramble code access. What few automated defenses there were immediately turned on the mon cala. The fact that we’re able to communicate with the shipyard administrator alone is a miracle. She was between meetings and the League tried to capture her for her primary access codes. They failed because she simply took a trip to the Refresher and wasn’t where they’d thought she’d be.”

Lee-Char gestured to the holo and a number of perimeter positions lit up. “These are defense towers that project a shield around the shipyard. They also have laser cannons and mass torpedo launchers. They’re old but well maintained, built for anti-piracy measures only. They’re currently online and remain under the control of the administrator.”

“So as long as she remains out of hostile hands it’ll stay that way. What’s her current position?”

“The mon cala have fortified a manufacturing building in this south western sector of the shipyards. She’s being protected there and apparently they’re working on an idea they think will help with the crisis. They didn’t elaborate.”

“Not even to their prince?”  

Lee-Char fiddled with the barbels on his chin in a mon cala gesture of annoyance. “They respect the throne, but I’m technically not on it yet. They’re also concerned about communication security.”

“This clearly presents a problem for the deployment of our forces,” Master Koon said. “The capital city is just as strategically important. If we secure the shipyard but lose the capital in the process our foothold in the waters of Dac will be very precarious. I’m sorry your highness, but we must first secure the capital, the shipyard will still be there even if it falls to the Separatists.”

The prince nodded, “I understand, Master Jedi.” 

“We’ll be launching reinforcements within the hour-”

I felt the currents of probability shift and even Anakin raised a hand to his head as his own senses picked up on it.

“Master Koon, launch now. Whatever is ready, we need it,” he said grimly.

Plo Koon frowned but eventually nodded, “I sense it as well. Force be with all of you.”

His holo winked out.

Anakin tapped his comlink, “All units, go to combat alert.”

I swam forward to the holotank controls and pushed my senses far and wide, using the sensors to further augment it.

There!

The holo changed, focusing downward to the ocean floor of Coral city, more than eight hundred meters down. The only reason we could get readings was the hard lined sensors present down at those depths. The sea floor was churning and kicking up the sand to visually obscure what was happening, other sensors compensated.

Something big and hot was boring through the earth down there.

The computer profiled it quickly. 

“A tunneling machine,” Anakin frowned. “How were its seismic disturbances not detected before now?”

“They probably were, but the quarren had free reign until just a few days ago, sensors were probably hacked and reprogrammed to ignore it.” 

“What is that?” Lee-Char pointed at large saucer shaped heat signatures that were now emerging from the new tunnel.

“Incoming enemy droids! Northern sector!” was announced over the radio.

The prince whirled through the water to grab his spear blaster.

“All units hold the line!” Anakin shouted into the comlink, powering towards the door.

“Let’s go Chewie.”

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We emerged from the central spire directly into combat.

There were no quarren this time, only aqua droids and they had already punched a hole straight through the perimeter and were splitting into two columns that intended to flank and wrap up the defenders.

I didn’t even have time to use my comlink, instead pushing my thoughts directly to Padme.

‘Padme, grab the mon cala senator, Ackbar and flee in the direction of the shipyards, now!’

Her shock was palpable across the bond, ‘On our way!’

My lightsabers burst into life in the water, in time to deflect bolts that would’ve cut Lee-Char in half.

The origin of the attack was from below and it was then that I first laid eyes on what the Separatists had thrown at us through the tunnel.

Rising out of the depths was an entire formation of ninety three, green tinted bioluminescent saucers, propelling themselves with dozens of twenty meter long tentacles that powerfully undulated through the water. I sensed they were a clear merging of the mechanical and biological.

“M8, full scan, are those shielded?”  

“Confirmed, mistress. No weapon currently being wielded by either Republic or Mon Cala troops will drain or disrupt them. Torpedoes will, but only in great number.”

Mounted on the perimeter of the saucers were rapid fire cannons that were sending large bursts of beam lasers cutting through the water.

Even as we watched many dozens of mon cala and clones were lost.

Fire from the DC-12Us just splashed off the shields of these monstrosities.

“No Skyguy, we can’t take this. All our remaining Devilfish’s torpedoes are not enough to make a dent in this!” I said with a grunt as my blades defended against more blaster fire. 

Anakin visibly gritted his teeth as he swam in evasive circles cutting through a number of aqua droids that had reached us.

Chewie roared in defiance, his accurate bowcaster shots taking out droid after droid. He even tried shooting at the jellyfish like war machines to no avail.

“All troops, fighting retreat for the shipyards!” Anakin ordered. “Master Koon, I’m giving you new coordinates for the drop.”

We began swimming for our lives.

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A long column of six hundred mon cala knights and clones swam out of the Coral city outskirts as if the hounds of hell were on their heels.

In the midst of this desperately fleeing formation Padme, Chewie, Ackbar and Senator Meena Tills of the Mon Cala were clutched on the railings of a Devilfish sub, whilst I was piloting it. The remainder of the subs we had were sprinkled throughout the formation, giving the tired clones a chance to rest.

Anakin and Lee-Char along with most of the mon cala knights were acting as a rear guard, firing behind them at the tirelessly pursuing aqua droids.

We were lucky that the CIS combat jellyfish craft were quite slow and none had even set off in pursuit.

I desperately wanted to join the rear guard as losing Lee-Char at this point would be disastrous, but I had to trust that Anakin was doing his job and sticking to the monarch like glue and defending him.

After two kilometers of desperate travel, swimming and fighting, more and more clones had to grab hold of the subs. It got to the point that there weren’t enough hand holds and troopers had to grab onto each other’s legs, forming human chains that were dragged through the water. Never let it be said that they were content with that, as they continued to aim their weapons behind them and fire into the pursuing enemy formation.

Even Chewie was hooking his leg onto the sub’s railing, aiming and occasionally firing with his bowcaster using the pop-up scope, when he was sure of a shot.  

My own energies were spent protecting Padme and Tills, keeping the spirits of everyone buoyed with Battle Meditation and steering the retreat.

“How…  much-  longer?” Padme gasped with closed eyes. She was trying to spend as little time clutched on the sub’s railing.

M8 displayed the answer immediately on my HUD. “Four hundred meters, three minutes at this speed,” I eventually answered whilst my lower body undulated against the water in a ‘dolphin stroke’, the Force constantly aiding my stamina.

Even Senator Tills was making use of the sub to rest as the mon cala wasn’t exactly in the prime of her life anymore.

“Curse these droids!” Chewie roared as he missed a shot, rapidly reloading his weapon.

The three minutes that followed would be remembered by many of the survivors as the longest moments of their lives. 

Even as we were retreating, we were leaving the dead in our wake as the aqua droids kept up their attempt to rout us completely.

At last, I felt them entering my awareness and fifteen meters above us, a huge number of splashes were seen as 550 clone troopers and forty-eight Devilfish subs plunged into the oceans of Dac.

All of them dove for the rear of our retreating formation with all the speed they could muster.

A storm of blaster fire rained onto the pursuing droids from the reinforcements. Torpedoes soon followed, wrecking a multitude of droids with every detonation among their formation.

Wrecked aqua droids began steadily floating into the depths below.

With the tide somewhat turning, the reinforcements merged into the retreating formation.

It did wonders for morale and I was left with much less metaphysical weight to carry in the Battle Meditation.

Another volley of torpedoes ranged outward, their detonation and implosion effects finally broke the back of the enemy, as the droid numbers were now too few. Yet it seemed Riff Tamson wasn’t content with that and kept the surviving droids doggedly on our tails.

We covered another three kilometers of distance before the last droid was cut apart by Anakin’s lightsaber.

I let out a relieved sigh into my helmet as I surveyed our numbers.

933 mon cala and clones.

Anakin used his armor’s propulsion and the Force to streak through the middle of the formation, carrying a rather disgruntled Lee-Char and grabbed a hold of the Devilfish sub.

“I hate this,” the prince declared.

“Better to live and fight another day, your highness,” Ackbar said with a wince. He had to be strapped to the sub and was in no condition to actually swim. “You did everything you could. Your father would be proud of you.”

Lee-Char closed his eyes in heartfelt pain, “I’d rather he be alive and with us. He wouldn’t have lost Coral City.”

“Not even he would’ve foreseen the enemy bringing those karkarodon monstrosities to our waters, your highness. We would need starfighter cannons to practically destroy those.”

“I suppose,” he admitted. “I feel like I… barely did anything.”

“Valor is not counted in how many droids or quarren you defeat, highness,” I pointed out. “You are the crown now, the hope and sovereign of your people. As long as you live, they will endure and live to see the new day.”

“We’d need a whole new army group to take back the capital, even if we could counter these new weapons.”

“That army will come, highness. We at least now know what the CIS have brought to the table and we can work with the scientists and engineers at the shipyards to find a countermeasure. Take heart Prince Lee-Char, we are far from defeated. Think of this as merely a tactical repositioning of our forces.”

“Tactical repositioning?” Ackbar chuckled despite himself. “I’ll have to remember that one, Commander Tano.”

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It would take almost two and half hours to reach the shipyards.

We probably could’ve used the travel tube that linked it to Coral City, especially when scouts reported that not a single soul was using it, nor that any CIS droids were traveling through it towards the shipyard. The problem was what would happen when we reached our destination through it. The tube could squirt us out directly into a prepared quarren ambush, literally a ‘fish in a barrel’ moment.

So we had to be content with traveling the hard and slow way, sending scouts ranging outward on Devilfish subs. We also had to be worried about our depth as the seafloor terrain changed. If we poked our heads above the shifting thermocline, the chance that we could get droids dropped on top of us increased greatly.

The CIS definitely knew where we were headed and the fact that they hadn’t sent more aqua droids to destroy us was very worrying. Either they were too busy consolidating their hold on the capital or they just didn’t care about pursuing us. They knew we would have to retake the capital eventually. It would all depend on just how many aqua droids had been produced for this campaign. Fighting on aquatic worlds was somewhat of a niche endeavor, I could use my hands to count the amount of worlds it would be useful on.

That was a strategic problem though and I had a nasty feeling we could not count on the CIS running out of droids for this specific campaign.

As we neared the shipyard we began hugging the sea terrain as much as possible. It was far more hilly and even mountainous in this direction, but the shipyard was situated in a huge valley called Jumdu.

The clones switched their SCUBA gear to rebreathing mode a kilometer out. This allowed for a more stealthy approach so we didn’t spew out bubbles into the ocean above us and throw out the underwater equivalent of smoke signals.

We paused at the crest that looked down on the valley and looked down on the stupendously large shipyards.

Sure it was speck to the KDY Ring shipyards, but it was the largest singular shipyard in the galaxy that was down a gravity well. Some Corellian yards came close, but those were smaller and distributed across most of that planet.

In immediate view was a yard that held the skeleton of a Mon Cala passenger ship that was easily 1.5 kilometers long, 120 meters high and 300 in width at its widest point. I could definitely see the future MC80 Star Cruiser being developed from the bones of the massive starship in front of me.

The perimeter towers were angled, elegant and curved, seemingly growing out of the ocean floor. The dim overhead sunlight flickered yellow on the nearly invisible shield that was stretched over the perimeter like a giant energetic fence. There were no yard workers of either mon cala or quarren in immediate view, the place was eerily deserted.

“Senator Tills, if you’d be so kind,” Anakin prompted graciously.

The Mon Cala senator nodded and held up a comlink which flickered with the small holo of a female mon cala who had definitely looked like she’d seen better days. Numerous scratches on her curved head were plastered up and one of her bulbous eyes was covered up with a black medical patch.

“Administrator Pombe, we’ve arrived,” Tills said sternly.

“Finally… relay me your coordinates and I’ll open a gap in the shield.”

Tills tapped her comlink’s pad.

“Received, signal me when I should close it. Now hurry and deal with these League blutfish. Pombe out.”

“She’s friendly,” Anakin said dryly.

“Pombe is a devilsquid, but she’s good at her job and has no patience for fools, which is what lets her ride herd so well on the largest collection of scientists and engineers on the planet,” Tills huffed with amusement.

Below us the closest section of the curved shield wall began flickering before disappearing entirely.

“Go, go, go!”

I pushed on the throttle of the Devilfish sub and crested it over the edge and down into the valley at top speed.

“Head on a swivel everyone, fire only when fired upon. Not all quarren here are the enemy,” Anakin warned.

The Republic and Mon Cala forces streamed into the shipyard.

We passed the skeleton of the first cruiser, beyond which was an empty yard and beyond that a much more complete ship, still missing large portions of its outer hull.

It did also show that there was a lot of modularity to mon cala shipbuilding as well, even to the extent that those modules could act as ships in their own right.

On our left the first buildings began to appear, the function of which I could only guess at from exterior appearance alone, though I could sense enough people taking shelter inside that it could’ve been a dormitory for workers.  

It would take another seven kilometers of winding through the yards and buildings before we’d arrive at the administrator’s position.

It was a building under siege.

It spanned nearly four hundred meters in length, and twenty in height, a curved cylinder laid on its side.

The League quarren had massive squared containers dumped all around it for cover and was trading blaster fire with the defenders inside, who were firing out of every available window that looked outward.

We outnumbered them two to one at least and so Anakin gave the simple order.

"Attack.”

I left the controls of the Devilfish sub to Padme and surged ahead with Chewie at my side.

The clones and mon cala opened fire, catching the enemy flat footed because every defender in the building had gathered their attention and no one had been watching their backs. It was a rather rookie mistake. 

In those critical moments, it was a turkey shoot and it cut down the League by almost half their number before they even turned around to return fire.

My blades began dancing in defense as Chewie roared, firing his bowcaster to blow a hole through the chest of a quarren, slamming him back into his own own cover.

I boosted through the water along the enemy line, the Darksaber swinging in my hand - cutting through three quarren on the trot.

A quarren tried to surge forward to stab me in the back.

I didn’t bother turning around and willed my right blade to relieve the enemy of his arms, before twirling it to send his head tumbling off his body.

My left blade was spinning rapidly, defending from the fire of four quarren, sending blaster bolts randomly back in their direction.

Chewie shot one, whilst I closed the distance with rapid dolphin strokes, where the Darksaber did its grim work.

A quarren on their version of a scooter began shooting at me with its mounted cannons.

A brief jet from my boot propulsion had me dodging left, whilst my hovering blades managed to send the bolts straight back into the scooter.

It blew up rather satisfyingly, killing its rider with the concussive hammer of compressed water and shrapnel.

With that a gap was created in the League siege line and Republic forces split up and began enveloping the building, wrapping up the enemy in the process. 

At some point the commander of the enemy must have been killed, as the cohesion of the enemy broke.

Dozens of League quarren began trying to flee, dropping their weapons in the process.

“Let them go!” Lee-Char ordered.

Ackbar, who was only able to move around thanks to a handheld scooter, looked at his sovereign with severe eyes, “Are you sure, your highness?”

“This madness will one day end and how I conduct this war will be judged. They’ve relinquished their arms and fled. Killing them now will just be butchery. I do not want unwilling subjects, Captain.” 

Anakin nodded in understanding, “All units, hold, do not pursue,” he ordered into his comlink.

The prince looked around at the works of his people and then addressed the mon cala knights that were nearby. “We must leave the door open for our people to be reunited! The wounds of this conflict must heal when this is over. Everything here was built by the people of Dac! Mon cala and quarren working united in purpose for thousands of years. I will not be known as the sovereign king who undoes that legacy in a few days.”

“The prince has spoken!” said Ackbar. “What say you knights of mon cal?!”

The shout of affirmation carried for kilometers in the water. “FOR THE PRINCE! LEE-CHAR!”

“LEE-CHAR! LEE-CHAR! LEE-CHAR!”

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A/N: Its quite fascinating to think of the mechanics and physics involved in underwater fighting in this manner. Have a good weekend and stay awesome.

The Owl in the Abyss - Chapter 24

In that moment, my will dominated everyone around me who wasn’t Lung.

I pushed my intent and desires as hard as I could to all ten minds.

The red lights of the cameras remained active.

I had to buy time. “What now, Lung-sama? What do you want?”

His dark eyes behind his mask met mine a moment later and I didn’t even need a read on his aura to interpret the answer to my question. He reached down to the jeans he was wearing and simply ripped it off, tearing it uncaringly in the process before chucking the remains to the side.

My own eyes instantly locked with his newly freed manhood, which wiggled slightly in the air before settling down. He was half-erect already which in the next few moments raised to full mast.

He wasn’t hung like a horse, which was a bit of a disappointment. It was not surprising in retrospect given his ethnicity, but he did straddle the American median, which made him technically on the high end of the spectrum. Any further judgments were put aside when his smell hit my nose fully. This combined with the strength of the aura made it a struggle not just to jump his bones right there.

I was fighting that instinct though as I had to make a show for the cameras and whoever was watching off-site. An eleventh mind entered my web and I knew immediately it was Oni Lee - I snagged him immediately.

“You will attend to me,” he declared authoritatively.

“As you wish, Lung-sama.”

I made a point of walking forward slowly, flaring my hips seductively with each step. I didn’t have to fake any enthusiasm, eagerness or my lust for what was about to happen, I let it shine from my features.

I trailed my fingers from his ankle upward, tracing the sinuous dragons tattooed there, up his calves, knees and slowed them agonizingly as they neared his upper thighs. His tattoos formed an interesting cradle for his member and balls, which had no tattoos. I doubt even Lung could handle the application of one there.

My hip leaned against the chair as my fingers traced the ‘cradle’ made of snarling dragon heads.

Finally I cradled his bare hairless scrotum briefly before slowly working my way up his manhood, tickling the glans, which finally caused a hiss of satisfaction from Lung.

I slowly leaned over, enveloping his shaft with my right hand, keeping my left arm behind me, so it gave him an enticing view of my breasts as they began dangling downward.  My mouth was watering at this point and I let a glob of saliva land on his glans, before I plunged downward, taking him in completely.

Lung grunted and hissed before his hand grabbed my hair on the back of my head, then began directing my movements with a strength that I knew I could match for the moment, as long as he didn’t escalate his power. I worked with him though, so it never turned into a contest. I swirled my tongue, savoring his scent and taste.

I could already tell from his precum that I would get a wonderful meal from this, but even more so than normal. This would be amazing, this would be like getting a higher octane of fuel for myself.

My eager throaty moans of anticipation and satisfaction resounded in the room and I started working on him even faster. Lung was left only holding my hair loosely as I bobbed up and down with that heavenly taste in my mouth. Occasionally I also pulled in air from the sides of my mouth, carefully working it so it created a vibrational effect.

My rapid movements were also causing my breasts to jiggle and dance alluringly in the air, which was an odd feeling, but one I delighted in finally being able to do. It was enough to entice even Lung, as his other hand came forward to fondle and knead them.

This also began to rapidly heat me up and I could feel my pussy begin dripping in anticipation, drops of my juices already snaking their way down my inner thighs.

His grunts and groans became louder, his muscles rippling as he fought against the stimulation to prolong it.

I just took it as more encouragement, pushing him in deeper until I could feel his glans bumping against the back of my throat. My lips locked against his shaft and I began sucking, creating brief vacuums which popped noisily.

Another few seconds of this was all it took and Lung practically roared as he came.

My throat eagerly accepted his semen.

The strength and power I got from it was not what I predicted, it was exceeded by an order of magnitude.

My whole body tensed as I devoted every fiber of my being to absorbing the energy. The sheer excitement of the feeling, the discovery of it, the elation, hit me like an explosion. I moaned with his member still practically in my throat as I also climaxed, sending a jet of juices to splatter on the floor between my feet.

The new discovery of another physics defying ability hit me as I realized I was still breathing perfectly even though I was deep throating him.

I looked up with hungry, bedroom eyes into his and slowly lifted up, keeping my mouth lightly sealed against his shaft to gather every bit of residual semen and fluids.

Lung’s breathing was hard and his aura was still as strong as before.

The rush of exciting discovery swept me.

Fuck yes.

He had to be mine.

“That… was an adequate performance, Escort,” he said neutrally, but I could tell he was deeply impressed but his nature meant he would never express honest admiration for anything.

“You’re welcome, Lung-sama,” I said, making sure to say his name with a husky, slow tone. “Anything else?”

His hand was still idly fondling my breasts and he seemed to be debating something internally. He came to a decision quickly though and sat up from his lay-z boy chair. I moved out of the way but kept my place next to it.

He walked behind me. It turned out he was a full head taller than me and could easily rest his chin on my head. His thick arms promptly captured me around the waist, pushing my own arms up briefly. He took advantage and his hands snaked up my stomach before palming both my breasts, starting to fondle and massage them.

His soft manhood was now pushed against the top of my butt.

He began slowly pushing and rubbing it against me, clearly a method to encourage his arousal again, working against his refractory period.

I could’ve helped with that, but Lung had to stay true to himself for as long as possible.

My new minions were hopefully setting things up by now.

Oni Lee was the most difficult to puppet as the parahuman hardly had any initiative and will left.

Lung was now playing my body with experienced skill, nothing like what Uber could do, but close to it. He’d obviously had many women in his time and despite being a selfish bastard, only caring for his own pleasure, knew how to seduce and give pleasure if he had a mind to it. He was also using the act to restart his own ardor.

A few minutes of this and I was well on my way, especially when his right fingers moved between my legs and began fondling my labia, then he expertly pulled on my clitoral hood and began attacking there.

His left hand came up off my breast and pushed my head back onto his shoulder. He ripped off his mask, which fell to the floor with a clatter. Then he was free to roughly kiss me, forcing his tongue into my mouth, where my own began a duel. He was quite surprised at the strength I was showing in it, but took that as a challenge. His strength ramped up and eventually overpowered my tongue before he withdrew.

“Ah, oh, fuck yesss!” I hissed as I climaxed. The spray of my juices went forth with tiny droplets as he was still mercilessly manipulating my pussy as it happened. My body twitched and spasmed in his arms as the aftershocks hit.

Far from stopping and giving me a breather, he just continued, this time two fingers penetrated me fully and he explored the inner walls of my pussy, clearly searching for the famed g-spot. Problem for him was that my entire pussy was practically one big g-spot.

I shuddered and gasped, his left hand returned to my breasts, this time pinching and working my inflamed perky nipples.

His fingers pumped and caressed in my deepest folds and barely a minute later I was launched into another orgasm.

The fluids erupted from between his fingers, soaking his hands and splattering on the floor.

His hand came up and I saw him lick the juices off with a fascinated look on his face.

This close I saw that Lung’s face was actually a mix of ethnicities; his eyes and forehead reminded me of the classical Japanese appearance, whilst the rest was Han Chinese. It was actually quite handsome overall, though I couldn’t claim to be attracted to it.

He leaned closer to my ear, “Are you trying to master me, Escort?” he grumbled dangerously.

“No, whatever you taste is unique and appeals to you alone, that is all,” I whispered.

He merely nodded before rather roughly turning me around to face the chair before pushing me down to support myself by the armrest.

His hand kept me pushed down, folded in half and I looked back to see him lining up his newly erect manhood.

He pushed forward and my pussy eagerly accepted his full length into me, my vaginal muscles even helping him along.

A grunt of surprise was his only reaction, before his iron hands grabbed my hips.

He pulled out and pushed back in with a slow hiss.

The pleasure was tough to resist as it threatened to rob me of my faculties at this point.

I had to keep focus in directing my new minions.

One of them was about ready to enact the changes I wanted. I willed him to pause and wait…

Lung began to speed up in his thrusts into me, his hips slapping into my buttocks.

He groaned and slowed down, now moving with a languid thrust before just pausing for a few seconds and resuming.

He kept this varying rhythm going.

Now I was the one who had to resist a climax if my plan was going to work, ideally for five minutes or more.

My fingers dug into the soft leather armrest of the chair, which tore under the assault as I gasped, gritting my teeth with effort.

Lung began another rapid set of strokes.

“Ah, fuck! Urggh-” I groaned, which became gasps.

I struggled with every fiber of my being to hold onto reason and just barely managed it.

He gasped himself and slowed his pace again.

Then he bent over, using his right hand to play with my breasts, whilst keeping his left on my hip to aid in a renewed bout of deep languid thrusts.

He stood properly again and finally seemed to lose his brinkmanship battle, before rapidly thrusting.

This was it.

I projected one desire to the minion.

NOW!

The red lights of the active cameras winked out.

The instant it happened my mind web reached out and pulled Lung inside.

I didn’t stop him from his eager fucking and just rode it out.

“Ugh, ugh, aaaah!” He grunted to the ceiling as I felt the powerful burst of energy and his semen filling me.

I clamped my vaginal muscles on his manhood and took it all in.

That was my own queue to lose as I gasped and climaxed, giving Lung’s legs a decent spray of my pussy juices.

For nearly half a minute we both just stood there and gasped in the post-coital bliss and aftershocks.

Finally, I turned around with a smirk.

“Pick me up, Lung-kun.”

“Yes, Escort-sama.”

He pulled me up to stand, bending his knees to remain sheathed in me. Then his hands grabbed me by the upper thighs and lifted.

I gasped in delight at the new position, feeling his pecs and abs deliciously against my back. His hands slipped up and held me just under my bent knees. This splayed me wide open, practically showing off the fact that I was still impaled on his manhood that I was now keeping properly erect.

I carefully adjusted the flow and found that I had to do very little. His aura was steady and I was comfortably absorbing power.

“Fuck, I really could stay like this forever,” I groaned with delight. “Carry me to ‘15 and let’s go next door.”

I grabbed the sentient pipe and then Lung carried me out. As he walked me down the hallway I was hit with the sheer naughty excitement and lewdness of what we were doing now. It wasn’t exactly ‘in public’, but it was still a new level of exposure and my spine shivered at the feelings and thoughts. My mind threw me a ridiculous fantasy of Lung carrying me outside into the streets like this.

I turned the handle of the door and beyond was a makeshift room that held all of Lung’s precautionary preparations for our meeting.

On one side, a whole table with five laptops, hooked up to cabling and in turn to the cameras in the meeting room. Each laptop had a smartphone tethered to it, allowing for an Internet connection. The five men who had been operating the stuff were all lined up to one side, all of them typical ABB gangsters and mooks in appearance but were all skilled in IT.

They bowed at the waist low and chorused, “Ohayō gozaimasu Kakaete!”

I frowned and gave Lung a pointed side-eye, “Kakaete?”

“Meaning mistress, but the word implies also that you are master of geisha or prostitutes.”

“Oh, but I don’t claim that over the working girls.”

“You may not claim it, but can a tiger deny its stripes or a dragon its wings? You are strong, Escort-sama. I tried to prepare for you but you wisely kept the details of your powers hidden. I had thought that you needed line of sight and to speak to those you mastered. You even managed to stop my off-site precaution.”

My attention was drawn to the center laptop, which was showing the carefully looped feed of Lung and me still fucking each other’s brains out to other ABB members at another property of the gang.

“If they realize something went wrong, what will they do?” I was somewhat amazed my half formed intent and even subconscious desires had managed to orchestrate this, whilst I was in the middle of sex.

“Detonate the C4 charges at the base of this building.”

“Shit, who set them?”

“Oni Lee.”

I thought intently at the other parahuman and I was treated to observing the mechanics of one his signature teleports as the masked parahuman appeared in the room.

My back shivered with horror and I gaped momentarily. “Fuck no. Oni Lee, you are only to teleport when your life is in danger.” I hammered the command home into what was left of his psyche. He only bowed in acknowledgement. “You are now only loyal to me. Now, go downstairs and disarm the charges.”

He bowed again and left through the door.

“Hmmm, why did you do that, mistress?” Lung asked curiously.

“Oni Lee, is not truly teleporting. His power actually creates an entirely new copy of himself within line of sight, at least until I Mastered him, which now extends it to my own line of sight. Anyway, the process being used is destructive, the body he leaves behind turns to ash as a side effect of the scanning process.”

“I fail to see the problem, Escort-sama.”

I snorted, “I suppose you wouldn’t. Copy of copy of a copy. No such process is absolutely perfect. Errors are introduced and comparing the Oni Lee I saw at the Red Light meeting to now, there is a clear difference. I give it another three, maybe four months, depending on how often he uses his power, before he is just a reasonless instinctual drone, merely following orders. That keeps on for longer, I wouldn't be surprised if eventually even his power starts producing copies that are physically defective, but that’s a guess. Now, what about Takeda and his family?”

“The threat to him was only to get you here, mistress. He was already given the means to disable the explosives at his home when you arrived.”

“That’s a relief,” I let out a breath. “I certainly don’t like him but I wouldn’t want anyone innocent or adjacent to this conflict to suffer for our battles.” My gaze wandered over to the five ABB gangers. “You, your names?”

“Tsubasa, mistress,” the guy on the left began.

“Takuma, mistress.”

“Shota, mistress.”

“Xie, mistress.”

“Hao Wen, mistress.”

“Which of you did the video looping?”

“I did, mistress,” Takuma answered.

“Excellent work, we’ll need to film an ending suitable for the off-site viewers to convince them everything proceeded according to plan. That I became a conscripted servant of Lung. Then you need to loop that into this.”

“It’ll be done, mistress.”

“Good.”

Oni Lee returned and I immediately noticed he was breathing rather heavily. “That was quick. You were out of my range for a time. What were your thoughts?”

“To only disarm the C4 and return to you, mistress.”

Interesting, I thought. His aura was actually showing the slightest of improvements around his head whilst he was within my mind web. It was actually allowing me to also control Lee better, but this was clearly early days.

“Come Lung-chan,” I flexed my vaginal muscles, causing the huge parahuman to let out a groan. “Let’s finish off the show.”

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We did so by giving a five minute performance for the cameras.

We alternated by using the camel style and Indrani positions, which generally favored the male showing dominance, though the latter was probably a bit too intimate for Lung but could be written off as just him getting into it as the sex wound down.

I ‘left’ showing the proper amount of reluctant obedience.

Lung then put in a call with all the countersigns to show that everything had gone well to the gangers sitting on the trigger of the bomb. Then dismissed them to return to their normal activities.

I also sent my own signal to Henry and Dad that I was out of the woods.

It wasn’t surprising that they called immediately.

“Little Owl, everything okay?” Dad asked with a frantic worry evident in his tone.

“All fine, dad. Situation sorted out.”

“Really? So if I ask where Lung is now?”

I looked behind me on the couch where Lung was spooning me fully.

“Do you really want to know?” I countered and shooed Takuma away. The ganger with superb video editing skills bowed with a post orgasmic smile on his face and pulled up his pants before retreating out of the room.

“Okay, never mind. If you’ve got him then that’s a stupid question. What are you going to do with him?”

“Let’s just say he can keep up with me and it won’t kill him, so I think I’m going to be a bit more lenient in his hypnosis. Don’t get me wrong, he’s still a monster with blood on his hands, but now he’ll be my monster on a tight leash and I’ll be asking him to scale back on the worst of the ABB’s activities. Bring the whole gang to a more traditional style of operation, honor, respect and all that.” Lung’s aura was annoyed as he found the Yakuza style trappings pointless, but he didn’t stop caressing my stomach and breasts.

“Dear, can’t we just dump him in the Protectorate’s lap?” Dad asked plaintively.

“You’ve seen Henry’s analysis of the city. Why are you asking this?”

“You’ve got Coil and his territory to worry about already, add Fortress and SCPs in the mix, now you want to add Lung and his ABB? You might as well be a crime queenpin of the city at that point!”

My head swam a bit as I realized that dad was actually correct.

Coil’s territory was all of the southern commercial district, adding the ABB meant that included the Downtown coast, which included Red Light, as one contiguous zone. ABB also controlled the Docks in the north-east. My territory was split in half by the E88, as they controlled Downtown and Docks South.

“Well, if that’s what it takes dad, then we do it. We now have a huge chunk of the criminal underworld of Brockton at our fingertips. We can start to smooth things out, pull back and stop the most egregious crimes - I’ve already got an idea of how to end the ABBs human trafficking and the forced prostitution ends by becoming voluntary only. We’ll help with the rehab in getting these girls off the drugs.”

“But-”

“I’d like to hear this idea,” Henry interrupted dad pointedly.

“The main customers of the trafficking are North African Warlords and the Russian Bratva. Lung simply tells their reps in person that he finds the deals unsatisfactory and ups his prices to a ridiculous amount. Play into the narrative that he’s starting to lean into a draconic persona and wants all the money. This will take months of course, it can’t happen too quickly. Naturally, they’ll balk and cancel the contracts.”

“What if they actually agree, Escort? The resources that the Bratva can command are substantial.”

“This will beggar them and they’d be stupid to do it. If they try to force the issue… well, Lung will just roast them.”

“Just a reminder that Lung isn’t invincible, as you’ve just proven.”

“Which is why Oni Lee will also be there and both dad and I can cover the other bases but remain hidden, watch his back. Lung’s biggest weakness is the initial period when a fight begins. If someone can tag him with a massive single hit that overwhelms his healing ability whilst he’s still in normal form. The other weakness is Masters, but I’ve got that part covered.”

“You’ve already had a chat with Lung then regarding this?”

“Yes, in brief.”

“Henry, we can’t seriously be considering this?” Dad asked.

“Danny, nature abhors a vacuum. Remove Lung from the city and you’re creating a big one. The Teeth are the most likely candidate to return, but there are others. This will naturally create substantial conflict and loss of life until a new equilibrium is reached. The current gangs in the city are stable and settled, their borders generally agreed and they’re only pricking each other to keep the rank and file in line and settled. Escort now has practically half the city criminal underworld in her influence from behind the throne, so to speak. She can affect subtle, peaceful change on the status quo, Danny. Isn’t that preferable to open war on the streets?”

“I’m sorry, but the crime queenpin of Brockton Bay isn’t exactly what either her mother or I had in mind for her future!”

“My future is my choice and this is no different than what we did with Coil,” I retorted, unable to help the waspish tone that leaked into it.

“The worst that Coil did was extortion, protection fees and harboring murderers on payroll, Taylor. Lung’s business is far worse and now you’ll be practically abetting it.”

“Dad! Do you want this city on fire? Because that seems to be the path you want to take us on. How many dead will there be? Hundreds, thousands? How many among the DWU? I certainly wouldn’t keep out of the fighting, I’m a hero. So I might just be one of the casualties of this hypothetical conflict and let's not forget the other heroes and the Wards as well. If the Butcher returns-”

I heard a sudden beep in my ear and held out the phone to check the status on the call.

Dad had cut off his end, but Henry was still there. I placed the handset back to my ear.

“Henry?”

“Yes, you’ll have to be patient with your father. Remember, he’s a parahuman now and while it’s a theory, it has enough observational backing that I’m pretty sure he’s being prodded by his power.”

I idly nodded even as my own temper flared at the idea.

Coil’s knowledge and data had been a gold mine for Henry in researching parahumans further, including the fact that powers actually had agency and that there was intelligence on the other side of that dimensional shunt in their heads. Just how much control whatever or whoever had over a parahuman was open to debate, but it was a direct brain connection. It could be total or on the other side of the spectrum, merely a trickle. A nudge here and there, tweaking the billions of brain cells into seeing things, thinking about things or manipulating feelings.

In dad’s case, it wouldn’t take much either. He’d inherited grandpa’s temper, something he’d also passed to me in turn, but mom’s influence had eased it a bit in my case.

“I’ll keep it in mind. I’m not exactly thrilled about my situation and I certainly never imagined a hero career like the one I’m living, but if this is what it takes to keep Brockton from burning and bringing actual change to it - then it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make and isn’t that one of the main traits of a hero?”

“Classically speaking, yes,” Henry acknowledged. “What are you going to do now?”

“Lung needs some more instructions before I feel comfortable leaving, as does Oni Lee and the mooks at the site.”

“Don’t take too long though, the rest of the ABB can’t suspect anything.”

“I won’t, good night, Henry.”

“Good night, Escort.”

I ended the call and stored the phone in its pouch.

At that moment, Lung got grabby and gave me a slow in and out stroke.

The slow background pleasure of having him constantly inside me spiked up my spine and into my brain.

“Oooh yes, another session I think would be just the ticket and then we need to get you sorted out Lung-chan.”

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I left that building and Lung very reluctantly.

For the first time, I could genuinely say I was absolutely sated, between the seemingly ever-refilling Kenta - Lung’s actual name - and the other mooks I felt amazing and strong. I was flying through the air faster now, having attained a new top speed that was pushing the top end of supercars.

I spent a time just luxuriating in the new speed, flitting about the buildings in Downtown before returning home.

It was three in the morning at that point, so the house was dark and silent.

Theo had managed to get Aster asleep, another plus. That would invariably not last given the nature of infants, so I headed downstairs to the basement to pick up my GED materials before returning.

Aster had her baby cot in my former room, alongside the bed.

It was probably venturing into creepy territory, because Theo was sleeping in my former bed as well, but I put it out of mind and buried my nose in the required reading for English Lit.

As usual the book didn’t seem to grab my attention much. What was it with these prescribed novels in Lit? The curriculum designers always chose the one that was preachy with messages, allegories and themes… and did it in the most boring ways possible. Heaven forbid we could actually get something immersive that thrilled, captured the imagination or got the blood flowing.

I had to slog through it though and was almost relieved as the clock struck five and Aster rather promptly woke up. She immediately started fussing, kicking and letting out small sounds of annoyance.

I carefully picked her up and settled on my hip, before grabbing ‘15, my book and heading carefully through the door and downstairs.

It was clearly evident she needed a nappy change from the smell and I hurried through that ordeal, keeping my nose as pinched off as possible.

That done, I headed with Aster into the kitchen to get some baby milk for her breakfast.

Afterwards, I swapped that for a pacifier and toy, then settled her on my lap to continue reading at the kitchen table.

Just before six and with the sunrise well underway, a very bleary eyed Shauna in a dressing gown and slippers meandered into the kitchen. She practically zombie walked her way to the fridge for some milk and cereal from the pantry, whilst setting the kettle to boil.

It was amusing to watch and she was clearly not a morning person.

When she finally sat down and drank her coffee some intelligence returned to her eyes.

“G’mornin,” she mumbled.

“Morning,” I smiled cheerily.

She ate a bit of her breakfast and just stared at me for a moment, then Aster. “Huh cute kid. Don’t those usually take nine months?”

I snorted, “Yeah, not mine. Aster, say hello to Shauna. Shauna, this is Aster.”

The infant babbled and giggled as I waved her hand at my fellow SCP.

“Hey kiddo,” she played along, giving a weak smile and a frankly pathetic wave to the infant. “Am I gonna be able to comprehend the reason you suddenly have an infant girl in the house?”

“Might want to finish that coffee and breakfast first.”

“Getting right on it,” she said, grabbing her spoon and beginning to shove cereal down her throat in a not very dignified manner.

“How goes apartment hunting?” I asked idly.

“Shit,” she grunted between bites. “Either it’s too expensive and in E88 Downtown or it’s cheap but pigsties with crime riddled streets.”

“Did you check the Commercial district?”

“That’s too close to Fortress. Don’t wanna live close to work.”

“Seriously?” I gave her an incredulous look. “You want a long commute?”

“It’s a thing I have.”

“Checked the Docks South? Near Captain’s Hill?”

“Too close to that fucking tree.”

“Shauna, it’s domed and patrolled,” I sighed wearily.

“Nope, that thing gives me the creeps.”

“Downtown Coast?”

“ABB not gonna have a problem with me?”

I couldn’t help but smirk, “Let’s just say that I have cordial contacts with the gang now and once I put in a word in the right ear, you’ll be as safe as houses.”

“No shit,” she smiled, steadily showing more life. “You and the gang came to an agreement?”

“You could say that. Met with him last night, we hashed an agreement out. Basically a continuation of the status quo, I pay him his share of my proceeds from Red Light and provide security for the district when I’m there. This means that I’m technically an ABB cape now.”

“Technically?”

“Not going to be helping him in his other illegal activities, but if he calls for help or my services…” I shrugged.

Shauna stared at me with narrowed eyes, “I know your thing Taylor, you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”

“Do keep it on the down low,” I pointed a warning finger at her.

She snorted, “Not like I have any friends in this town yet, though I’ve got my eye on one of those hunky mercs at base,” she smacked her lips and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“You have Internet access and a PHO account, so please don’t announce it or will I have to hypnotize you?”

“Relax, chill boss. Not gonna be screaming it from the digital rooftops.”

“Good. Now how is your work with Henry?”

“Weird, awesome, mind blowing with boring as hell sprinkled in between. The Foundation bastards should’ve been teaching us this ontokinesis shit from the get go. Would’ve actually been able to properly control my power.”

“True, but that would’ve made you harder to contain and they’re not in the business of letting SCPs free to contaminate their precious normal world.”

Aster got even more fussy at this point, so I distracted her by giving her a ride on my bouncing knee.

“You ever do anything with ontokinesis?” Shauna asked curiously.

“Nothing overt beyond my own power, too dangerous until we get a proper hang of it. Even Henry doesn’t think he’s ready at the moment.”

“Really? I thought he was just being like a mysterious old sensei.”

“That should underscore the danger for you,” I stared at her pointedly. “So you will heed his order never to use ontokinesis without either of us present.”

“Relax boss, he gave me the shovel speech. I saw all sorts during my own time in containment, don’t wanna make or do something that could just end up killing or trapping me.”

I heard the steps on the staircase and dad walked into the kitchen. His aura was stained with regret, anger at himself but also a determination. He gave me a complicated look before resolutely heading to me and kissing me on the head.

“Morning Little Owl.”

“Morning Dad,” I said with a forced neutrality.

“Shauna.”

“Morning Mr. Hebert.”

“Aster’s-”

“Changed and fed, dad,” I confirmed.

“Good.”

He began prepping his own breakfast; bacon, eggs and toast.

Shauna naturally picked up on the tension between me and dad. She gave me a questioning eye as she finished the last spoons of her cereal.

I just shook my head in response.

“I’ll just go get dressed for the day then,” she quickly stood and hurried out the door.

I occupied my mind with reading and keeping Aster entertained while dad was in front of the stove.

When he finally sat down and began eating, he gave a deep sigh. “Taylor, sorry-”

“Dad-”

“Dear, let me finish, please. I know last night was not exactly my best moment and I apologize for that. I just…” He trailed off and took a few bites of bacon, visibly gathering his thoughts. “I think I was just holding on to a sliver of hope, that despite everything that life has thrown in your way, that you’d be able to have some normality; in the form of a hero career you actually dreamed of having. Now, because you’re too much like your mother, you’ll sacrifice even that because this bloody city seemingly doesn’t need another cookie cutter hero. You’ll become more than just that. Hero, villain, both are roles and labels, that doesn’t solve anything really.”

I nodded, on the latter point he was right on the money. He took an angry bite from his fork and looked pensive. “And what a hypocrite I am, given what I did when Coil…”

He held up his hands and I saw that they were shaking, his aura stained with fear and self-loathing. “I still see their faces sometimes in my sleep. They were monsters who had killed so many and were walking the streets with Coil’s help.” He balled his hands hard around his knife and fork. “Now it’s almost certain that at some point, you’re going to have to also put down the monsters you find among the ABB. If it’s discovered that you’re… no, we’re the power behind the curtain now-”

“They’ll brand us villains,” I nodded. “Simply because they’d fear the kind of power we have now.”

I had Lung and Coil wrapped around my fingers, including both their organizations. Coil’s now molded into Fortress. The ABB would also be steadily molded into serving my interests. Henry and Dad were also in my corner with their respective powers and knowledge, Shauna and perhaps, eventually even Theo.

It was a rather mind blowing feeling when I summarized it like that. I had come so far from being the scared Taylor in hospital, barely understanding what was happening to my body.

“Then we better make sure it doesn’t come to that. If we can’t call on the Protectorate for help with some of these SCPs…” he trailed off, clearly not wanting to think of that eventuality.

“They’ll have no choice with regards to quite a few of them, especially when we’re talking about city ending, world ending or even universe ending scenarios.”

He drank from his coffee and a new set of footsteps down the nearby stairs heralded the arrival of Theo.

I reached over and squeezed dad’s hand, hopefully conveying my acceptance and love with my eyes. He smiled briefly and nodded at me, relief blossoming in his aura that everything was still okay between us.

“Morning Theo.”

“Morning Taylor, Mr. Hebert.” He immediately headed for me and I lifted Aster into his arms.

The infant gurgled and smiled at her half-brother as he settled her on his hip. He started cooing and tickling her nose, greeting her and asking about her morning, knowing he wouldn’t get any answer besides baby talk.

After doing his brotherly duties, he handed Aster back to me and started grabbing his own breakfast of cereal and some leftovers from dad’s efforts.

“So ready for training today, Theo?” I asked with a smile.

“Think so,” he mumbled over his own coffee.

“Good, so remember, you’ll be meeting Henry. Tall sentient moving statue, don’t be alarmed, he’s a big softy.”

“Got it.”

“The car to fetch us will be arriving in an hour. We’ll likely be followed by the E88 car watching the house, but we’re going to have a little surprise for them.”

“What is it?” he asked curiously.

“Let’s just say that we’re going to play a little shell game with identical cars, with me misting you between them. Dad’s also going to run interference with a perfectly timed bird formation dropping shit on their windshield.”

Theo couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image, “When did you work this out?”

“Been brainstorming it since we took you in,” I shrugged. “We don’t want Kaiser linking you to Fortress’ physical location or giving any hint to him that it’s a location of interest.”

“Can’t wait to see it really, an actual underground hero base,” he grinned with excitement, rubbing his hands together.

“Well, it used to be a bona fide Bond villain lair, but we’re changing that,” Dad chuckled. “I’ll be following and Aster will be riding with me.”

“Can you drive and use your power?” Theo asked with worry.

“My power allows me quite a lot of multitasking, but I’ll have a driver. Not to worry, Theo. Kaiser will be frustrated when he loses track of you today, but he’ll have no choice but to stew in his ignorance.”

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“Door to Brockton Bay anomaly boundary.”

Out of a rectangular energetic breach in reality, a pale skinned woman stepped out onto the gravel of a distant back country road. It gave a picturesque view of the slowly waking city of Brockton Bay in the distance. The wind whipped her wavy black hair, only being constrained by the fedora perched on top of her head. Her tailored black suit and shoes were more fitting for an office environment, but she showed no discomfort whatsoever at her surroundings or the biting wind.

The portal door closed behind her without a sound, disappearing as if it had never existed and not leaving any trace on the environment.

She stood as still as a statue on that country road, the only sign of life being her breathing and the condensation from every exhale from her nose in the cool early morning air.

Finally she looked down at her own feet, seemingly debating something with herself before she took one deliberate step forward.

Her perfect posture and composure shattered.

She gasped and leaned on her knees to support herself, gasping. Her eyes whirled around in a panic, her head turning frantically around. A hand went into her jacket pocket, producing a silenced pistol, but there were no targets or anyone around to shoot. She glared in anger at the city in front of her.

“P- path to understand the-  the phenomenon.”

First step, take one step backward, responded her passenger.

She gritted her teeth at the useless response, but nevertheless took one step backward.

Her composure returned immediately, she straightened herself and holstered her weapon with perfect efficiency and accuracy.

Path to understand the phenomenon, she thought.

First step, take one step forward.

She wanted to scream with frustration.

For almost three weeks now the city in front of her, had become a new type of blind spot for her power. Perhaps even longer, as she had only discovered it when one of her routine paths to check on one of Cauldron’s long term assets had abruptly ended on the outskirts of the city. Frantic checking and further paths revealed a boundary around the city where her power simply went into a contradictory loop.

Calls had been made, assets utilized and it was quickly discovered that every Thinker power with the breadth and range to be turned on Brockton Bay was returning nonsense unreliable results. Only passive Thinkers, that relied on human senses still functioned and they had to be within the exclusion zone.

When it came to Brockton Bay, Cauldron was now effectively blind, even Clairvoyant couldn’t see into the city.

Then strange events began to be reported within the city; the radioactive train and the human tree being the most noteworthy. There were others but nothing that was beyond the scope of parahuman activity for a city like Brockton. The local PRT and Protectorate had handled the situation and the train was due to be moved soon, whilst the tree would be destroyed when a safe method was devised.

Yet all of that was just a distraction to the true threat - the exclusion zone was growing.

It was slow, but occasionally pushed itself out in leaps.

How it could be stopped was a mystery.

How do you stop something you couldn’t even define properly or even the strongest known Thinker power failed to identify.

“Again Contessa?”

Contessa didn’t turn around to face her interlocutor, it was pointless and there was no threat.

“There must be a way,” she only said in reply.

The soft crunch of gravel at her side and Alexandria was now standing there.

The wind whipped at the wide, heavy cape draping from the Triumvirate hero’s shoulders, combined with the all black costume; skirt, knee high boots, elbow gloves and featureless steel helmet - it was very impressive and even awe inspiring to look at.

Contessa kept her eyes fixed on the city.

It was a place where she was no different than any other, where she was as helpless and powerless as any of the quarter million official residents. A place where she couldn’t aim her pistol with the perfect accuracy she was accustomed to, a place where a random car accident could kill her, a place where any of the parahumans inside could easily overpower her.

Inside Brockton Bay, she was no longer Contessa or the Boogeyman.

She was just Fortuna, a woman born on an alternate Earth where the highest form of technology had been the water mill.

“We’re exploring every option, Contessa. I’m looking at every report coming out of the city. The instant I find what’s causing this-”

“You will do nothing to it.”

Alexandria didn’t show surprise, but her head turned minutely to lock eyes with her.

“Really now?”

“This is not truly a blind spot as Eidolon, Endbringers, Triggers and Entities are. It’s different.”

Alexandria looked to the city. Only her mouth was exposed by her helmet and her lips thinned minutely. “You didn’t report this to the rest of us.”

“It’s only a recent conclusion.”

“Which isn’t based on your power.”

Contessa turned around and began walking away from the city. Alexandria hovered a few inches off the ground and kept pace.

“If I’m correct we have found something even the Entities are blind to, are unable to quantify or prepare for.”

“You of all people know their power, how potentially old they are. How many other races they’ve encountered and defeated. All of human history is barely a blip on the scale of this species. The only weapons that can fight them are their own.”

“Door to West Twelfth Street, Dallas, Texas, Earth Bet.”

The portal snapped into existence in front of Contessa, a brief sliver of the street in downtown Dallas framed within it. She paused and turned dangerous eyes on Alexandria, “I repeat, if the source is found you will do nothing, except inform me the moment you are sure.”

Her tone was enough to make even Alexandria feel a moment of fear. “Very well, Contessa.”

She stepped through the portal which disappeared out of existence immediately.

Alexandria looked at the spot where Contessa had been, then turned to the distant city.

“What is going on in there?”

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No new SCPs in this chapter.

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A/N: A small sliver of what Cauldron is up to in the face of the craziness. Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome everyone.

Chewie by SDXL & I

Been tweaking the parameters on this one for a while and I can't get the AI to render a decent bowcaster to save it's digital life, which it loves to show firing, but the background and Chewie himself with his armor *chef's kiss*. 

The Force Wills - Chapter 83

“Be reasonable, senator. The core worlds are by far the largest tax contributors and are doing the heaviest lifting with regards to the war effort. Surely their voices must be heard.”

“You are unbalancing the scales of democracy with this bill. Now just because one planet’s bank account is larger, they’ll have a greater say in the Senate.”

“We are passing laws critical to the survival of the Republic. Laws which could be potentially stopped by a single senator from an Outer-Rim sector!”

“If that Outer-Rim senator’s sector will be negatively impacted by said law, then that is fully within their right and it’s their duty! That’s the whole point of the Republic and this system. This bill is nothing more than outright disenfranchisement. It’s playing right into the CIS’s hands.”

Sheev Palpatine sat in his armored lanthanide alloy chair behind the desk in his primary office and regarded the two arguing senators with a patient paternal smile. On the first guest chair sat Prince Bail Organa and next to him, Senator Ask Aak of Malastare, doing his best to raise the blood pressure of the Alderani noble.

Aak was a very useful puppet and one Sheev often trotted out to beat the drums of the Senate, when necessary. Two further qualities that made him useful was his bitter criticism of how the Jedi were commanding Republic forces and he had a special enmity for Jedi Master Oppo Rancisis. All because the gran senator perceived that the latter had failed to protect Aks Moe, his predecessor, from assassination.

Sheev inwardly chuckled. He had not even arranged for the assassination to happen, yet the dirty past of Aks Moe had caught up with him and without lifting a finger, Ask Aak had fallen right into his hands. It was amazing sometimes how the Jedi could create enemies for themselves, just by acting according to their precious Code.

“Senator Organa has a point there, Senator Aak,” Sheev looked mildly at the gran senator. “This bill could drive more worlds straight into the arms of the Separatists.”

“If they are that fickle in their loyalties, then we’d be better off without them muddying the waters. The GAR will then settle matters in the long run. I would also question the Senator on why he’s referring to these terrorists by their own name. They are not a government-”

“Are you listening to the words coming out of your mouth?” Organa practically sneered at his colleague. “The Republic has failed these Outer Rim worlds for a long time and now when presented with a viable alternative in their eyes, you would punish them two fold. Doomed to be neglected by us and then when they dare to turn their backs on us, we ram the dagger of the GAR into it.”

“Rightly so, they must know their place,” he huffed.

“Senator Aak,” Sheev said flatly, letting his eyes shoot a mild glare of warning. “These are citizens of the Republic, we must strive to be better than our forebears in addressing the problems of the Outer Rim.”

“Precisely,” Organa agreed, leveling a harsh stare into the stalky three eyes of the gran.

“However, Senator Organa,” Sheev swung his gaze the other way. “The Core Worlds are soon to be contributing military assets and even volunteers for the war effort, not just financial support. Statute 312b aims to rightly recognize this contribution and therefore they deserve some say in how those assets are going to be used. Applying a greater weighting to their votes is the simplest method of achieving that. The Senate must become more agile in the responsibilities it has.”

Organa couldn’t refute the latter fact. The War Bond Act would’ve long been passed had it not been for the Senate’s dithering - which was clearly sponsored behind the scenes by the Banking Clans. Sheev had to grudgingly give credit to Organa for that idea. The long term plan of financial deregulation and bringing the levers of finance completely under executive control was a very delicate thing. Now, Bonds stood as a worthy second tool to maneuver the Republic’s finances.

“Now, this meeting has been running a little long. Thank you both for coming and I trust you’ll find a way to make 312b happen,” he stood authoritatively.

Organa and Aak also stood as he walked off to the side door and into the more private areas of the Chancellery office.

Vice Chair Mas Amedda stood there dutifully waiting at the entrance to his private office. The chagrian’s eyes were buried in a large datapad and tapping on it.

“Chancellor,” Mas said with a proper level of wary respect, as befitting of the only other soul besides Dooku who knew he was Darth Sidious.

“Yes, my friend, what brings you here?”

“Two things, firstly, I’ve been researching the next step, 121b.”

The doors to his private office opened with a near silent hiss and he sat down in the recessed seat, surrounded by a multitude of displays, both physical and holographic. Amedda entered and stood in front of the desk.

Sheev tapped and keyed the primary controls, dimming the holograms so that he could properly make eye contact with his deputy.

“And?”

“It’s feasible and there is even historical precedent, though we have to go back to the Old Republic for it.”

“Few remember those times and the histories that do exist are too obscure to appeal to, Mas.”

One only had to walk into his public office to see that fact. It never failed to amuse Sheev to have multiple Jedi Council members walk past the ancient Sith statues time and time again. Not even Yoda had seen the statues for what they were. It was sometimes awe inspiring to think how thoroughly the Line of Darth Bane had succeeded in pulling the Sith into shadows, where they had always belonged.

“We would perhaps need a suitable demonstration of the necessity for 121b.”

Sheev nodded considering it as he lightly pushed on his foresight. “Yes, that should work neatly. A small military blunder, a communication failure as two neighboring populated systems with local defense forces are attacked, forcing the GAR to intervene and take command.”

“We still need to select suitable candidates that can be ready when the time comes.”

“That is the easy part, Mas. The problem remains getting this through the Senate, another task for the good Senator Aak.”

“Any preference on who, Chancellor?”

Sheev smiled, letting just a hint of darkness emerge from his eyes to spear into the psyche of Amedda, “Those who are only there because of me and upon whom we have suitable leverage.” It didn’t escape Amedda’s notice that he also fell into that category; good.

“Understood Chancellor,” Amedda said, his eyes retreated down to the datapad and the chagrian shivered, even though he hid it outwardly. “The second issue I need to raise with you is that COMPOR has sent through a proposal. They wish leave and funding to form a subsidiary that is aimed at adolescent sentients of the Republic.”

Sheev folded his hands on his stomach, visibly considering the idea even as he plunged the future through the Force.

He liked the idea. Catch them young, when their minds were still malleable, setting the foundation for future political thought - which would all be in line with his New Order. The next generation would then build on the ashes of the Republic… an empire of order to last for tens of thousands of years, which he would rule as an immortal emperor. Something the Old Sith Empire could never even dream of achieving.

“Granted,” said Sheev simply with a ringing finality. “What is this subsidiary going to be called?”

“They’re still bouncing around names, but the current working title in their proposal is SAGroup - Sub-Adult Group.”

“That is rather… uninspired.”

“I shall convey that sentiment to COMPOR,” Mas nodded.

“Good, now leave me.”

Amedda bowed his head and strode swiftly out of the door.

Sheev tapped the keys of the panel in front of him to restore the holopanels and began reviewing the data and intelligence feeds.

As usual he began with the political situation; reviewing conversations between senators that his system had flagged as potentially important. For all that they tried to keep secrecy, many forgot and overlooked the simple things - such as the myriad of cleaning droids, small and large that moved through the Senate halls. Not to mention the biogenically engineered plants that subtly reacted to sound, scattered at key points throughout the Senate.

That done with everything well in hand, he moved on to his surveillance of the Jedi Temple.

For two hours he listened to the audible speech of the old enemy. Only rigid discipline kept his own temper in check, though he was slightly intrigued by the slowly growing reformist faction of the Jedi. The pressure of the war was having a marked effect, as expected. Perhaps the remote possibility of a full fracture in the Jedi was there? His foresight was rather uncertain, giving him a fractured Order and a weakened yet cohesive one as future possibilities.

With a thought and pull of will he sank into the Force, reaching out through the Dark Side, straight to the bowels in the forgotten sublevels of the Jedi Temple.

The ancient Sith shrine, the dark angry concentration of hatred that pulsed like a heart, fed with the negative emotions of every sentient on Coruscant. The Shroud, empowered by the shrine, was still doing its job.

His awareness flitted through the halls of his enemy, carefully, silently.

It was possible that one day, a rare talent among the Jedi would emerge, who could sense this obscure ancient technique, but Sheev was confident he’d have plenty of warning. He made sure to observe all the younglings for the past ten years and no one had ever shown any reaction, even involuntarily.

He pulled back and was in his office once more and night had fallen.

The Dark Side answered his demand immediately as he empowered himself to renew his energy and drain away the mental fatigue.

The computer drew his attention with a warning tone and indicated that a monitoring program had been tripped with key words and that it had come from a primary person of interest. Sheev tapped the interface and brought the details to the primary holoscreen.

A familiar, handsome human face appeared.

Senator Seti Ashgad.

The Golden Tempter himself and the other man who had been most likely to become Supreme Chancellor after Valorum had to step down. His foresight had thankfully alerted him in time to that potential for Ashgad to make a move and so Sheev had successfully outmaneuvered the possibility.

Ashgad was a rare charismatic talent, easygoing and very good at playing the political game. He was also very intelligent; a former hyperdrive engineer and the man who had designed the Z-95 Headhunter when he had worked for Incom. The fact that his fighter was now seeing a massive surge in popularity and use in the GAR had certainly helped raise his star to greater heights.

Sheev did not need foresight to know that if he died, Ashgad would be one of the first to raise his hand for the nomination to Chancellor.

These facts alone meant that Sheev took the threat that Ashgad represented very seriously and as such dedicated considerable resources to having the man watched closely.

He tapped the audio log and began listening to the smooth, deep voice of the senator.

“Unacceptable. The Senate is already bristling with armed security and surveillance, now he wants to install roving cam droids in the name of further ‘security’?”

“Senator Ashgad, surely you remember how this building was attacked? Not to mention the blackout?” Now speaking was Senator Craorte D’rec from Devaron.

“The cam droids wouldn’t have helped in either scenario. No, this is Palpatine just seeing what else he can get away with.”

“My dear Senator, you are being overly paranoid.”

“You aren’t being paranoid enough. I’m an engineer and scientist at heart - so do you know what I see? I see a weld here, a tightening there, removing small things, adding others that seem inconsequential, easily dismissed, until the next thing you know, the ship around you is crashing.”

“Senator, now you’ve lost me.”

Sheev had heard enough. He closed the file and a few taps later his secure communication system was powered up and he sent out a call.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for it to connect and the holographic rendering of one of his primary agents appeared.

The man was in his late twenties and possessed the looks that would see women and even some men eating out of his hand. Piercing blue eyes, broad dimpled chin, strong jaw, dyed white hair styled flat back over his head that hung to his neck, a slightly parted auburn robe framing a chiseled muscular body that was both hidden and tantalizingly on display by the black body glove beneath.

Sarcev Quest immediately bowed his head, “Chancellor Palpatine.”

Sheev reached through the Force and carefully pushed his senses around, feeling if Quest was in the company of anyone. The spy was at his Coruscant home and he felt the presence of a sleeping woman nearby. The rich courtier was plying his trade. It also meant that the man was actually unclothed and had put an overlay over the transmission.

“Quest, I see you’ve been dutifully observing your charge.”

“As you instructed, to the letter, Chancellor.”

“The time has come to end the assignment.”

The spy narrowed his eyes, “Very well, Chancellor. In what manner should it end?”

“Your charge has begun to make dangerous conclusions and has expressed concerns. A permanent ending will draw too much attention and be suspicious. He is therefore in need of a permanent resettlement.”

“Understood, Chancellor. I’ll begin making the arrangements immediately.”

Sheev pushed his senses onto the spy next, testing his defenses. “You’ve been training, good.”

“As you instructed, Chancellor,” Quest repeated, but with a smirk, his eyes glittering with the Dark Side behind his Force Mask.

Sheev sometimes wished he could send a thank you letter to Yoda. So much potential was being thrown away by the Jedi when they sent ‘failed’ adepts to the Agricorps. Yet it made for fertile ground to find carefully picked acolytes for his New Order.

While the Inquisitorius would one day be his visible closed fist, wielding the Force and lightsaber, Quest and his acolytes would be the invisible hidden hand.

They would never touch that damnable weapon, but their impact would be far greater, moving the destinies of entire planets from behind the scenes according to Sheev’s design.

“Keep that up, my friend. Two years, maybe three and all will be ready.”

Quest bowed his head. The man didn’t know of Sheev’s true nature as the current Sith Lord, nor that he was within the Banite Order. Just that Sheev Palpatine was a powerful Force Sensitive, who had not fallen in with the wasteful, corrupt Jedi Order and had successfully risen to the Chancellery and would mold the Republic into a better form. Quest was thoroughly Palpatine’s man in that respect.

“What will my next assignment be, Chancellor?”

“A brief return to Byss is in order, at least a month, Sly Moore could use some assistance in her duties.”

“I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“Good.”

Sheev ended the call and finally addressed the last item of his daily agenda. A few taps on the interface and a gesture brought up the latest reports of young Anakin and Ahsoka.

An abrupt mission to Kashyyyk in the middle of a major offensive push and it seemed the trandoshans were beginning to cause trouble with their hunting traditions.

He would have to have a word with Dooku on the wisdom of arming those lizards. If their hunts couldn’t be controlled or at least usefully directed then measures would need to be taken.

The after action report also made for somewhat thrilling reading, especially the tactics used.

Anakin had come a long way from that small boy standing on the steps before the Theed Palace at the victory parade against the Trade Federation

Now even Anakin had a pupil and one who was proving to be just as powerful, in other respects.

They worked well together, that was obvious.

It would be a shame when that partnership would have to end.

A Sith Lord could only have one apprentice after all.

Yet, that did not mean that a talent like Ahsoka had to be disposed of. No, merely redirected after she fell to the Dark.

For all that Anakin’s talents and power would make him a superb apprentice, his place in the New Order would be visible for all to see. Yet Ahsoka could carry his will between the stars, commanding his fleets and destroying all enemies of the Empire who would walk there.

Yes, he laughed inwardly as his foresight delivered to him the vision of it.

He made a final note of where they were now…

Oh, Mon Cala?

Sheev recalled the Plan and he let a small smirk adorn his face.

The death of the current king of those aquatics.

Necessary for the long term plan. Those shipyards were wasted producing passenger liners.

If the CIS won, they’d be retooled immediately. If the Republic GAR won, the old guard would’ve died in the war and the impetus in the survivors would lead them to build warships. Either way, the plan carried on.

Yet the small nagging doubt saw fit to return at that moment.

The number of contingencies he’d had to activate was becoming unsettling.

It pointed to a greater problem that he did not want to contemplate - that his foresight’s reliability was decreasing.

It should be impossible. The Dark Side was ascendant, it was his tool and it served him.

He plunged his awareness into the Force; no problems. Everything as it should be.

His hand thumbed the standby button and all the screens around him faded and shut down.

He rose from the chair and headed deeper into his private apartments.

Already he was beginning his meditation, drawing on his anger, fear and hatred, yet careful to keep it within the boundaries of his Mask, empowering the Shroud further in the process and keeping him completely invisible from the damnable Jedi.

Everything would proceed as it should. It was an inevitability.

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“I’m afraid that things have gotten complicated down here, Master Jedi.”

Plo Koon nodded at the hologram of the current de-facto regent of the Mon Cala government. “There is a succession crisis?”

Captain Gial Ackbar of the Mon Cala Knights, swiveled a webbed hand, “The quarren led by their current chieftain, Nossor Ri, has dissolved the authority of the throne over them. This has in one stroke brought us to the brink of a civil war. They refuse to accept Prince Lee-Char as the rightful heir to the throne. Instead they wish to secede and form their own government on Dac.”

“Aren't the quarren part of the monarchial government anyway?”

“They are, it’s been this way for thousands of years. Yet now suddenly, they declare this Quarren Isolation League as the true representatives of the quarren people. It has caused great strife and confusion as no one knows who to trust anymore. It’s a quagmire, some quarren actually denounce the Isolation League as terrorists and traitors, but Nossor Ri was their trusted leader and highest ranking quarren in the government. He was a close friend to the late king. There is no one else at the moment among the loyalist quarren who can step up and challenge him.”

“That this happened now is no coincidence, the CIS Fleet has halted their advance at the Mon Cala hyper point in the Ruisto system,” reported Ahsoka, looking up from a large datapad displaying a scan readout. “A civil war would be just the thing to weaken the aquatic forces of Dac, so that the CIS would have an easier time conquering the place with their much more limited aqua droids. They don’t have the advantage of numbers here, so they seek to equalize the scale.”

Ackbar nodded, his eyes looking impressed, “Quite correct, commander. The problem is that Nossor doesn’t see it that way. He imagines a Dac that is dominated by quarren rule, as an equalization of the scales of history. He also has no love for the distant Republic and would rather see us under the banner of the CIS.”

“What are you and the Prince planning to do?” Koon asked.

“In matters of dispute such as this, a Grand Conclave will be called that will bring all parties together to debate the matter.”

“How soon?”

“Two local days from now.”

“The Republic Task Group will be in-system by then. I’d like to ask whether it would be acceptable for Senator Amidala to attend as a Republic representative.”

“For someone of her reputation, I’d gladly sponsor her attendance.”

“She will naturally have a bodyguard as well.”

“Normally I would vouch for her safety on Dac, but the fact that our own sovereign was assassinated doesn’t speak highly to that. Very well, she may bring one.”

“Thank you, Captain Ackbar.”

The mon cala bowed and his holo vanished.

Koon keyed his command chair into the bridge com loop. “Nav, plot us a microjump to a polar orbit of Dac beyond their mass shadow. Pull us inside the shadow for standard shielding procedures.”

“At once, General.”

Out of the corner of his shielded eyes, he spied Ahsoka looking with a grim and frustrated countenance into her datapad, even as her hand tapped, swished and manipulated the data she was seeing.

It still hit him at the oddest times that she was just short of adulthood by togrutan standards now. A time hastened by her exposure to that Celestial artifact. What small manner of youthful optimism and innocence she’d had was gone completely. It seemed to actually suit her more, as if her outward appearance was properly beginning to mirror the truth of her old soul.

His mind recalled the youngling that had barely reached above his knee all those years ago, those big blue eyes staring at him intently. Even as the villagers told him of the Jedi imposter that had tried to snatch her before he had arrived.

The fate of that imposter was both alarming and hilarious, in that it showed just how devious, cunning and strong a three year old Ahsoka was in the Force. She had always carried a bag of smooth river pebbles with her since she could walk for self-defense from the wildlife of Shili and could even use the Force to empower her throws.

Ahsoka simply began pelting the imposter with pebbles.

Any true Jedi would’ve halted the pebbles with the Force or seen it coming and dodged every time.

The village descended on the imposter and by the time the Shili police was called into the village, the disguised bounty hunter had to be hospitalized for weeks and was currently still residing in prison on the togruta homeworld.

“Master Plo,” her voice brought him back to the present.

“Yes, Ahsoka?”

“I’ve been reviewing performance studies of how the DC-15 weapon series will perform underwater at various depths.”

“And?”

“The 15A long rifle will actually experience an effective range increase in the shallows, which is borne out by our own limited testing on board the Judgment. You could fire out to 13 kilometers with a calibrated scope and stable surface to support the weapon.”

“The latter of which will not be abundant, unless we’re fighting in the Mon Cala cities.”

“The problem comes with the 15S carbine. It starts to malfunction at any depth below five meters, it’s just not designed for this.”

“We shall just have to make do then, we have enough of the DC-12U and SCUBA combat gear for six companies of troops currently and will have to make up the shortfall with the 15-A’s. Your master will be bringing more.”

Judgment, Vigil and Hammer, flung themselves briefly through hyperspace and afterward the bright blue orb of Dac dominated the forward view, growing closer and closer.

“Flight, I want a cloaked scout dispatched to Ruisto immediately, all ships to remain at Condition Three indefinitely,” Koon ordered, standing from the command chair. “Come Ahsoka, I feel like stretching these legs and a spar between us in order.”

Her eyes twinkled in amusement at him, “Certainly, Master.”

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Anakin tugged his Aegis armor into a more comfortable position, checked the charge of the variety of devices on his belt, then double checked the seals on his helmet. In retrospect, Ahsoka’s insistence that the Aegis be capable of underwater operations with minimal additions made some sense now.

Change the boots to support flippers and underwater repulsors and you were almost ready to go.

His attention was also being thoroughly distracted by Padme. The way the diving suit clung to all the right spots on her was a feast for the eyes. The integrity supports also framed her hips, buttocks and clung to her bust beautifully, with complementary coloring of golden yellows and purple. Trust the Naboo to also have alluring and fashionable underwater gear.

Her helmet was a more civilian style sphere of aquatic rated transparisteel and she turned to give him a knowing look.

‘Anakin, mind on the job,’ she thought, her eyes giving a hint of warmth and her mouth twitched with amusement.

‘Yes, dear.’

The airlock of the Consular cruiser opened and the reflected noise of repulsorlifts and engines bouncing off the surface waters of Dac hit them.

He led the way, stepping awkwardly with the flipper boots, before diving forward into the open air.

His folded hands pierced the ocean water efficiently like a blade, cutting off the deafening noise of the cruiser.

The world changed to a bright vibrant blue and distant sounds carried by the water reached the exterior noise pickups of his armor, some were powerful enough to even conduct through the helmet itself.

A quick check showed that the rebreathers and oxygen tanks on his back were working properly as expected.

The impetus of his dive ended and he let his legs orientate down towards the aquatic city below.

Padme smoothly came out of her own dive a meter to his right.

“Everything working, Senator?” he asked over the radio.

She consulted the vambrace controls of her own suit for a moment, “All systems go, Anakin.”

It was a twenty meter dive down to reach the shallowest of the buildings and out of the gloom the capital city of Dac emerged - Coral City.

They could only see a fraction of the vast city and despite that it was very impressive considering the challenges that water pressure put on any construction. He would’ve loved to just have a day to spend picking the brains of a Mon Cala engineer.

They were predominately organic shapes; curving cylinders that tapered at points, using specially alloyed durasteel that was rust proof. The use of transparent materials was also abundant, set into the structures with elegant curves that were almost artistic in nature. Among and above the buildings large transport tubes wreathed the city, which pumped water through them constantly to allow the users to cross greater distances through swimming and do away with the need for submersible vehicles clogging up the waterspace.

The capital alone held nearly a billion sentients of mon cala, quarren and a small percentage of other species as well.

From the nearest transport tube, a mon cala emerged clad in the white uniforms of their army. With efficient easy strokes he streaked through the water, rising up to meet them.

Anakin tapped his own vambrace controls to activate the small exterior speakers that would carry his voice into the water.

This mon cala had mottled brown skin color with huge orange eyes and he smoothly came to a stop, bowing to Padme and Anakin.

“Senator Amidala, Knight Skywalker, I am Regent and Captain Gial Ackbar. Welcome to the waters of Dac.”

“A pleasure to be here, Regent Ackbar,” Padme smiled and bowed much more awkwardly.

“If only under better circumstances, Senator. Come, follow me to the tube, I’ll escort you to the Grand Conclave. It’s due to begin within the hour.”

They dove deeper to the transport tube and it was then that Anakin noticed that there was a distinct lack of people using it. Through the Force, he could also sense an undercurrent of fear that permeated the entire city. There were small groups of people swimming to and fro in the distance, hurrying between buildings as quickly as they could.

“Have you declared martial law, Regent?”

Ackbar could only nod, “And a curfew, the last thing we want is for hostilities to break out and innocents being caught in the crossfire. Now, the best technique for land dwellers in these tubes are both feet together when doing the swimming stroke. The acceleration can be disconcerting for first time users.”

Ackbar gave a smooth pulling stroke with all four limbs and was swooped away by the current in the tube.

Padme took the initiative to go next and was practically bowled over, swept away down the tube, then reoriented herself to a proper position.

“Oops,” she muttered over the radio.

Anakin chuckled and with the smallest profile possible inserted himself into the artificial current and began swimming with it.

The feeling of the speed was amazing as they followed Ackbar through the tube network. Floating buildings large and small flitted by at what his armor indicated was a speed of nearly seventy kilometers per hour.

The HUD indicated that they had traveled for eighteen kilometers before Ackbar dove out of the tube at the next exit.

They emerged to a huge complex of Mon Cala buildings that was nearly six hundred meters in height, the bulk of which plunged into the depths below. The deepest the Aegis armor could go on its own, whilst still keeping its wearer alive was 200 meters. Padme’s suit was rated for 120 but thankfully they would have the building itself and its systems protecting them if they had to go deeper.

Ackbar gestured for them to follow and they swam directly to a very thick looking circular door set in an auxiliary building, guarded by two squads of Mon Cala Guard.

They wore almost no armor beyond their pristine white uniforms, whilst they were armed with a staff weapon that had a large hybrid stabbing and cutting blade on one end, whilst the other had the barrel of a blaster. It was clearly optimized for close engagement even with the blaster, as there were no evident scopes on them and the trigger assemblies were meant for webbed hands.

The squads all ‘stood’ to attention by moving into a line formation on either side of the large door and holding their weapons vertically forward. Ackbar gave casual salutes as he swam past them.

Anakin and Padme entered the building and had to immediately adjust to the interior design of a Mon Cala building where there were six valid directions to move in. Holograms were in use everywhere to indicate destinations and valid paths to swim in thankfully. The hallways were vast and wide, with soft white, aquamarine and violet colors in use, which were using patterns inspired by the underwater flora of Dac.

They let Ackbar lead the way into the confusing mess and it was only his Jedi abilities that let him keep a sense of direction. He could already tell that Padme was lost and just keeping her eyes fixed Ackbar’s swimming form.

They entered a turbolift that was also far larger than what they were used to and it plunged deeper into the building with a surprising speed, clearly indicating that the tube it was using was in a complete vacuum. Anakin made a few mental calculations of the pressures involved and what the materials of the tube would have to handle.

Impressive, he thought.

The turbolift stopped nearly four hundred meters down and they emerged into a hallway that showed no visible difference at all, despite their new depth. It was only when they passed an exterior transparisteel window that the darkened ocean outside hinted at the new depth.

They now approached a massive door guarded by more Mon Cala troops, which swished open smoothly to reveal a huge circular multi-level space. Four levels of ringed seating surrounded the space, the center of which was dominated by a large alloyed disc suspended in place with a visible energy field.

Mon cala and quarren were seated haphazardly, but there was one slice of the circular chamber that was clearly dominated by only quarren and the level of contempt and anger radiating from that spot was rather intense. There was also another sentient in the room that was shining with cunning and a controlled malevolence.

Ackbar stopped his movement and held up a hand to pause their swim, “I should warn you that the Separatists have a representative here as well, brought by Nossor. His name is Riff Tamson from Karkaris.”

He pointed to the upper level of the Grand Conclave and lazily swimming on the perimeter, there was a tall sinuous figure clad in a form fitting white and blue partially armored outfit. Anakin only knew of karkarodons from his studies and by reputation. Hailing from a water world in the Nilgaard sector in the heart of the Separatist north, it was a place that was fiercely hostile to non-aquatics and stories of what happened to ships and their crews that were unlucky enough to crash on that world were the stuff of nightmares.

Karkarodons had smooth hydrodynamic heads and rows of razor sharp teeth that were set in a mouth that constantly showed them off to everyone.

“How long has he been here?” Anakin asked with as low a volume as he could.

“He was seen in Nossor’s residence two days before the king’s death, they’re ‘friends’,” Ackbar answered casually and his large eye speared Anakin with a pointed look. “The murder weapon used in the king’s death was a large dagger made from Dac coral but in a pattern that is not native to the planet. There are some who argue it's a Karkaris pattern.”

“But it’s not definitive?” Anakin asked dryly.

“Yes, our records on the Karkarodons are not the best, given their xenophobic nature, but I know in my heart that you are looking at the king’s assassin. That dagger was plunged into the late king’s back, no fight was given.”

“How was it managed? Was there no security or bodyguards or cameras watching?”

“He was in his office, all records of that day were purged from the system. The king had asked for some privacy. I was just down the hall when it happened.”

Anakin could feel the anger and guilt weighing heavily on Ackbar. He clearly blamed himself for not being there, even though realistically he knew that nothing would’ve changed had he been in the room, besides also getting a dagger in the chest.

Ackbar swam off before another word could be said and led them to seating on the second highest ring of seats.

The moment they were settled, Anakin reached across the Bond to Padme.

‘What do you think?’

She scanned across the room, ‘Ani, I don’t need the Force to know that we’re in a very precarious position. We know the CIS ‘playbook’ as Ahsoka would say. Fomenting a civil war is exactly their style. They would’ve promised Nossor the throne after the war is over to get him on board, but really, all that would happen is he’d either become a puppet or he’d be disposed of for a leader of Count Dooku’s choosing.”

Anakin looked up at Riff Tamsen, ‘It’s so brazen and obvious to us, but not to the mon cala or quarren. The general populace here is largely isolated from the war, they know about it and see it on the Holonet, but consider it merely as non-aquatics fighting and killing each other.’

The Grand Conclave began soon after the crown prince Lee-Char entered the chamber. He was personally escorted by Ackbar and a dozen Mon Cala Knights brandishing their blaster staves.

“This Conclave is called to order!” shouted the regent. “We are here to resolve, as has been done for thousands of years, an existential problem for our society-”

“Your society!” shouted a quarren.

“Our society,” Ackbar repeated calmly. “The king was murdered and his son is too young to ascend to the throne-”

“A throne we no longer recognize,” Nossor spoke up for the first time.

“You’ve all prospered under our rule,” retorted mon cala official.

“The prince’s rule has been preordained!”

“We no longer want this monarchy!”

Anakin looked at the prince and the young mon cala with his smooth gold skin and blue eyes was quite striking. His dark blue and yellow regal uniform sat well on him and he looked outwardly calm as he observed his people in turmoil. In the Force, it was clearly another story. He was frightened nearly out of his wits and felt helpless in the face of his people tearing themselves apart.

“We’ll defend our right for a Mon Cala King!”

“We want a quarren king!”

“Down with the Mon Cala!”

“Power to the quarren!”

It was the final impetus for the prince though. Anakin felt the young mon cala rather impressively push aside all his emotions, for it to be replaced by a focused determination. The prince pushed himself off his seat and his voice was instantly given priority in the sound system used in the room.

“I am dedicated to serving the quarren as well as my own people with fairness as it has been done for thousands of years-”

“Silence!” Riff Tamson hovered closer, practically shoving his snout into the prince’s face. The Mon Cala knights’ spear blasters immediately rose in defense, causing the Separatist to back off. “You have not earned the right to speak at this gathering. You are not on the throne-”

Ackbar swam forward glaring with his right eye towards Tamson. “You have no say in the matter, Ambassador. You are only here as an observer for the Separatists.”

Tamson gave one stroke of his legs and was immediately in Ackbar’s face as well. “Do not forget. I am here at the request of the quarren, because you, Captain, demanded the presence of the Republic.”

The karkarodon swam off to continue his circling of the room, but with clear agitation visible in his body language.

“Such a disgrace,” muttered Ackbar, his anger rising to the surface. “By rights he should be ejected from the conclave-”

Anakin pushed off his seat and floated over to put a calming hand on the regent’s shoulder.

“That would be what they want you to do.”

Chieftain Nossor Ri swam into the center of the chamber, “Prince Lee-Char will bring this planet to ruin. The boy has neither experience nor the knowledge to lead.” The quarren ‘leader’ was dressed quite conservatively in an almost elegant black and gray suit, and like all of his kind had four tentacles dangling from their sharp toothed mouth, with dull gray eyes adapted to the lower depths of the planet.

“And now you’re going to tell us you do?” Padme pulled out of her seat and gave the chieftain a sharp stare. “So you would do away with thousands of years of history and achievements in art and science that your people, united with the mon cala, have achieved?”

“You see that, but I only see thousands of years of oppression under mon cala rule.”

“How convenient and I’m sure that you speak for every quarren on Dac then?”

“I am Chieftain of the quarren, their voice flows through me! Besides, this is an internal matter and the Republic is only here at the behest of the mon cala.”

“Who asked you?!” shouted a quarren on the upper ring.

“The Republic has no place here!”

“Down with the Republic!”

That seemed to set off all the quarren who began to chant similar sentiments.

Nossor raised a hand and everyone fell silent. He floated down to face Lee-Char. “We refuse to support the coronation of another Mon Cala King. I am sorry, prince. Ambassador?”

Tamson should’ve been shouted down by every mon cala in the room, but it was not in their nature.

The Separatist swam higher and brought his full height of over two meters on display. “In my opinion, the quarren have no further business here.”

He gave a powerful stroke of his legs and headed to the massive doors, and as if it had been rehearsed, every quarren delegate followed in his wake to the cheers of agreement.

The mon cala watched with outward stoicism as their one chance for peace on the water world evaporated.

“Come Regent Ackbar,” Anakin said in the silence that followed. “We need to inform Master Yoda and the fleet.”

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In a secure conference room in the Mon Cala government complex, the holograms of Yoda, Windu, Plo Koon and Ahsoka appeared.

“This civil war, inevitable it is?” Yoda asked.

“Sadly so, Master Yoda,” Ackbar nodded. “I had thought there would be greater resistance from the quarren to the idea of secession. Unfortunately, their community leadership seems completely in formation with Chieftain Ri. Much like us, it is not in quarren nature to stray from a path once chosen. Whatever dissent there is, it will not be acted upon until it is clearly demonstrated to be foolish. I also think the younger generations of quarren are enamored of the ideal of racial independence.”

“An independence that will be swiftly taken by the CIS the instant they are in power on Dac,” Ahsoka declared.

“Can’t really argue with you on that one,” Anakin sighed. “Tamson had the quarren marching in lockstep down here.”

“It also seems inevitable that the quarren will formally withdraw from the Republic,” Padme reported.

“The Mon Calamari system is still part of the Republic and this planet must not fall into Separatist hands. Master Koon, Padawan Tano, what is the situation there?” Windu asked.

“Our scouts in Ruisto have observed the Separatist fleet launching Trident assault ships in the last few hours,” Master Koon rumbled. “It’s safe to say that these ships are already in the system under cloak and delivering aqua droids into Dac’s waters. The majority of our Task Group is holding beyond the system’s Oort Cloud, whilst a three ship vanguard is in orbit of Dac.”

“If the Separatist Fleet advances you are cleared to intercept them with the full force of your command,” Windu said forbiddingly. “Send what SCUBA forces you have on hand to support the Mon Cala Guard immediately. Captain Ackbar, assemble your troops.”

Yoda and Windu’s holograms winked out.

“Skywalker, I will keep space and the orbitals secure. Ahsoka will lead the SCUBA troops to reinforce your position.”

“What about the SCUBA troops in the task group and the gungans?”

“They will come later, Skywalker. We must first gain the measure of the enemy. I doubt quarren militia and limited numbers of aqua droids are the only cards Tamson has to play.”

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“How’s that?”

“Much better,” said Chewie, wriggling his shoulders within the confines of his brand new, very large, custom Aegis armor with oxygen tanks attached to its back. It looked very intimidating given its sheer size, painted in Republic white and red with the Jedi symbol prominent on the pauldrons. The fabricator droids on the Judgment had finally finished it, with additional tinkering that Chewie had done himself, with a few contributions from me.

His wroshyr armor might be adequate on land, but would not work in an aquatic environment.

“Good, now remember to think of it as vac fighting in space.”

The big wookiee nodded and started nervously fiddling with his bowcaster, which also had some tinkering done to allow for underwater functionality. Mostly in terms of its cooling systems, which had relied on air and venting, but now had a module that allowed for water to do that job.

My lightsabers had also required an adjustment to their blade containment fields to allow for smooth operation in an aquatic environment. Otherwise ambient water pressure pushed right in and switching on a saber would have water flash vaporizing constantly around it, not to mention heating up the immediate water around it to scalding temperatures.

Opening up the Darksaber to make that adjustment had felt like sacrilege and I could sense the sentient kyber inside was not happy about it.

I gave a last look around at the clone troopers in their SCUBA armors in the gunship, before turning to interface with the Devilfish submersible scooter. Well, if a scooter was two meters long, armed with dual laser cannons and two mini-torpedoes mounted in the nose.

“M8, is everything okay with this contraption?”

“All systems are nominal, mistress.”

I reached into the hull storage compartment and hefted my own requisitioned DC-12U.

It was a relatively heavy weapon compared to the DC-15A, with double barrels to compensate for the slower fire rate imposed by the extra internal sealing, shielding and cooling systems. Its trigger was duplex firing; pulled once it fired a barrel, let go and it fired the second barrel.

I felt the Force ripple and tear.

‘Snips! The attack’s begun. Dive immediately the moment you’re over the capital city,’ Anakin thought.

‘On my way, master.’

I stood and keyed the trooper’s squadron frequency, “Troopers of the Wolfpack! We are going in hot. The quarren and mon cala are already fighting in waters below. There will be aqua droids there too. Keep your formation, you get separated, just like a lone starfighter, you will die. There is no land here for me to generate cover for you. Follow my lead, trust in your training and we will live to see the sky again! Ready?!”

“Ready!” They shouted in chorus.

I covered all of them with the light blanket of Battle Meditation and willed the gunship doors open.

‘Commander, over the drop zone in five,’ reported the clone pilot.

The gunships of the 104th flared a few meters over the oceans of Dac.

“Go! Go! Go!”

A slight Force Push aided me as I dived with the Devilfish sub and into bright blue waters.

My montrals was inundated with the ripple of bubbles and water, splashes of troopers diving,  and the eerie hum of gunship repulsors through the shallow water. My vision cleared to the underwater world of Dac and in the distant city below, we could already see the flashes and bolts of criss crossing blaster fire.

I double checked everyone was getting into formation, before pushing the Devilfish over for a dive and engaging its engines.

Aiming straight for the heart of battle.

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A/N: The Water War is almost upon us. Hope you enjoyed the interludes and alternate POVs. Have a great weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 82

If there was one thing I could say about King Grakchawwaa at my first meeting with him, was that he had little patience for pomp, ceremony or speeches.

In the Force, he was a burning bonfire of frustration and anger that barely tolerated the walking pace of inspecting the parade company of clone troopers.

Grakchawwaa himself was a towering wookiee, easily clearing 2.4 meters. He wore similar armor to many of his warriors with the only extra ostentation of his station being a leather circlet set with a single clear jewel on his head. His fur was a deep chestnut brown and was braided around his shoulders to form a stylized ‘beard’.

My own attention was somewhat caught by his ‘shuttle’. It was a traditional wookiee ship made of wroshyr wood and the sheer artistry was breathtaking. It blurred the line between functional secure transport that could carry someone of Grakchawwaa’s position and a work of installation art that could stand in a museum. The shipwright had started with a saucer shape as the base and built it outward, using flaring organic shapes inspired by wroshyr leaves. Yet I could see they managed to integrate a lifting body design in the base, clearly giving redundancy in case the engines, shields and repulsors failed in the atmosphere. The exterior hull also had elaborate relief carvings that depicted ancient wookiees and various stories from their history.

“General Skywalker, as much as I know what protocol dictates should come next, I have little time,” Grakchawwaa said.

“Certainly highness, we’ll head to the fortress immediately then.”

The king had arrived with a guard of eighteen armored wookiees, who looked almost ready to fight an entire ship’s company of droids or clones, given how heavily they were armed. Four of them remained at the king’s side as we headed into the turbolift.

The lift hadn’t even gone a few seconds in its journey before Grakchawwaa said, “I understand you rescued one of my people from those butchers before they could hunt him.”

“That’s correct, highness. Though my padawan was primarily responsible.”

I heard Grakchawwaa’s nose subtly pulling in more air.

He turned and speared me with questing eyes, “I trust you will not abuse the honor, young Jedi.”

That he had deduced already spoke of a very shrewd and clever king, including a very sensitive nose. I had no doubt that Chewbacca’s scent was on me, especially my left hand.

“No, majesty. I know the significance of the debt and the responsibilities it bestows on me.”

“Good. The life debt tradition of my people has been abused in the past, on many occasions by aliens. Some had even caused the very events that put the wookiee’s life in danger, only to swoop in and ‘save’ them. Two thousand years ago, we instituted a law that the king at his own discretion may evaluate and void a life debt if necessary.”

“Prudent and wise, majesty. Do you want to speak to Chewbacca?”

“I trust the Jedi of Yoda, but in these turbulent times…” he trailed off. “I will set aside five minutes to speak to him.”

Our tour of the Ubrikkian fortress proceeded uneventfully for the most part, but I had to admire the self-control of Grakchawwaa. When he set eyes on the wookiee pelts and the stuffed wookiee statues on prominent display in a trophy room, it looked like he was about ready to pop his claws and go on a rampage of anger on everything. His bodyguards were less circumspect and they let out low audible growls. He also paused to examine the trophy remains of other species, seemingly paying his respects for each life lost.

“Skywalker…” Grakchawwaa mused, before his eyes lit in realization. “You were in the Battle of Alaris?”

“As a padawan, yes majesty.”

“And here you are, a knight with a padawan of your own. Where does all our time go? We wookiees have potentially so much of it compared to most other races in the galaxy. There’s so much we can do in a lifetime, yet in this room we see centuries of it squandered. Reduced to be nothing more than displays for the vanity and pride of short lived lizards. Becoming no more than ephemeral numbers to appease their goddess!”

“Then they would throw in their lot with the soulless Separatists, buy their weapons to hunt and kill more of my kind. What’s next? A full scale invasion of Kashyyyk?”

“They would have to break through the Republic lines at Boonta to mount such an invasion.”

“It’s just three major systems between Boonta and Kashyyyk, General Skywalker. Not to mention if the Separatists manage to infiltrate and steal the Claatuvac maps, then Republic defenses and trade routes in the east will be under dire threat. Now we have trandoshan ‘renegades’ armed with their weapons and hyperspace capable fighter bombers. If war comes to the Kashyyyk system, our vigilance on those maps may wane, it will drain the strength of my people.”

“No doubt this is by design.”

“The Royal Council and myself have kept our people as neutral as possible in this conflict, General Skywalker. War is in no one’s interest but our enemies.”

“So you will remain on the defensive.”

“Our fleet is built for that.”

“You lost two ships to just four squadrons of fighters. You’ll need more ships.”

“Please General, we know the odds. At a base level, the trandoshans reproduce faster than we do. Their population outnumbers ours by orders of magnitude. They can easily afford to throw bodies at a problem and if it should ever enter their heads to cooperate properly beyond their laughably token government, their industrial capacity would also outstrip ours.”

That was another aspect of how peace was kept between the two races. The trandoshans were by their nature fierce individualists and seekers of personal glory. They only held true loyalty to their own families and genetic lines at best. Even kin killing was known to happen if a bad enough rivalry between clutchmates existed. Their government was the very definition of minimal and had little real power. It was another reason why they didn’t have a senator on Coruscant.

In retrospect, that someone had managed to organize forty-eight trandoshan pilots into squadrons and for them to perform as they had in the battle, was very odd. By all rights, it should’ve broken down into an easy turkey shoot as all the individual trandoshans tried to score kills with very little coordination. This was a fact that was clearly not lost on King Grakchawwaa.

“So the best we can do is keep any fighting in space and keep our crews as small as possible.”

“Majesty, you know that sooner or later, the Separatists will come to you and offer the choice they’ve given to many worlds,” I said pointedly.

“I will climb that tree when the day comes, young padawan. I will fight to postpone that day for as long as possible. Hopefully, long enough for the GAR to finally bring this war to some resolution, one way or the other.” He turned to one of his bodyguards, “Rhil, scan the remains and organize for their retrieval, we can finally bring some closure to the tribes and families. Now come, Padawan Tano, show me to Chewbacca.”

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Chewie’s talk with the king wasn’t something I could be anywhere near, but it was at least interesting to see briefly how social strata worked in wookiee society. There was no bowing or elaborate ceremony or special language. It was a simple bow of the head, crossed arms with hands exposed to show that his claws were properly sheathed and that was it.

I left the docked fortress for the Clarity’s bridge only to find Anakin standing at the tactical planning holotank, looking thoughtfully at a massive fleet arrangement and starmap that could only be one thing.

“Snips, take a look,” he invited.

It didn’t take me more than a few moments, “We’ve secured Mossak.”

“And Arcan, we’ve completely cut off the Salin Corridor from Separatist control and influence.”

“Good news.”

He nodded, “Unfortunately, as with everything in this war, bad news comes as well.” He swiped his hands through the holo and the full galactic map appeared. “Our momentum in the south has stalled.”

“Again?” I asked incredulously.

“Resistance was stiffer than expected and the Separatists have begun fielding tri-fighters in larger numbers. Our own reinforcements for the south were delayed due to many factors, but the main one is that KDY is struggling to meet the demand. They’re increasing the number of yards dedicated to the Venator and making changes as we need them in response to the lessons learned in the war, but that is slowing production down. Clones and crew are for once, not the problem. Kamino has released a new cadre and there is some talk of a new armor for them being designed as well.”

Was this the genesis of Phase 2 armor?

“The siege of the Techno Union’s Foerost Shipyards has also shown no further meaningful progress.” The holo changed to a core world sector.

If there was one thing that could help Venator and warship production in general, then it would be recapture of that shipyard. Unfortunately, the shipyard’s defenses were formidable and when the TU had turned to the CIS, they’d quickly turned the guns on anything Republic. That siege had begun at the beginning of the war and after more than a year, there was no sign of that changing any time soon. The TU were deep behind enemy lines but Foerost had been built up precisely because it had been captured so many times in the history of the Old Republic. It was specifically built to act as a bastion system behind which the Republic could rebuild an offensive force in a worst case scenario.

“That siege takes too long and I bet anything the Union is going to emerge from there with a warship fleet crewed by droids that we’re going to struggle to defeat.”

Anakin shrugged, “The ships required to punch through those defenses just aren’t there yet.”

Same story, there were just too many demands on the GAR. Yet, if we could flip those massive shipyards, then it would go a long way to easing up production shortages and be a significant tide turner in the war.

“Anything else?”

“No, every other front is static, we put most of our effort into Mossak and everything will be focused on holding-”

The holotank flashed with an alert, the galaxy map vanishing to be replaced with the Jedi symbol and ‘Incoming transmission’ boldly written underneath.

Next the hugely rendered torso and head of Master Plo Koon appeared.

“Master Koon?” Anakin frowned.

“Skywalker, Ahsoka, well done on your rescue of our missing padawans and the resolution of matters in Kashyyyk. I’m afraid that we have a new problem.” His holoform abruptly shrank and now he was sharing the connection with someone else.

A venerable Mon Calamari, bedecked in organic golden armor, with a thorny crown and shroud covering his conical head. His bright blue eyes with huge black pupils conveyed a sharp intelligence, whilst his mouth was thinned in a grave expression. His shiny orange skin had a slight distortion that I could just make out and I quickly realized that he was actually underwater as the holoscanner captured him.

“This is King Yos Kolina of the Mon Cala.”

“General Skywalker, Commander Tano, a pleasure to meet you both,” said King Kolina with a slight burble accenting each of his words.

We bowed our heads.

“The pleasure is ours, highness. What seems to be the problem?” Anakin asked.

“The situation in the Mon Cala system is grave. Long range scans have detected a Separatist fleet approaching via the Overic Griplink hyperlane.” That was a hyper route known for being the furthest major lane on the very outer reaches of the galaxy in the north-east. Another holo appeared above showing the scans in question. “It’s a fleet centered around a Providence carrier variant and twenty three Munificents in close escort. However, there is a vanguard that will arrive sooner.”

“No doubt to soften and test your defenses,” I mused. My mind was not preoccupied with logistics and what assets we could throw at the CIS, however. The Force was flicking my montrals, to butcher the expression.

“Undoubtedly. My people remain loyal to the Republic, Generals. We do not have the strength to resist this force in space. Our only hope is to force a conventional confrontation underwater.”

The days of the giant Mon Calamari Star Cruisers being the backbone of the Rebel Alliance were not here yet. In fact, I was witnessing the first impetus that would give rise for the Mon Calamari to retool their famous underwater shipyards, which they used currently to construct the best passenger liners in the galaxy.

“Clones are trained for underwater operations and have the equipment, the specialized legion for that is generally held in reserve on Kamino, do we have the time?” Anakin asked.

“Even if you could mobilize them immediately, they wouldn’t arrive in time to make a difference. Kamino is nearly ten days away using the Trellius Route and some of the hyperlanes on the southern interface near Mon Cala cannot accommodate large ships like the Venator. The only approach still open to you is via Junkfort station at the northern reaches of Hutt space.”

Anakin closed his eyes briefly, the Force shifted and I vaguely felt him reach out to Padme.

“What of the gungans?” he proposed. “Naboo is relatively closer given the better hyperlanes we’d be working with. The gungan army has modernized to some extent and is the only other readily available aquatic force in the Republic.”

“Any reinforcement would be welcome at this point, General,” King Kolina said emphatically. “The Mon Calamari Guard has expanded greatly since the war began, but the Separatists know that.”

“Yet they are coming anyway,” Master Koon folded his arms. “That means they must have some kind of combat droid unit capable of underwater operations now.”

“Think Republic Intel can be persuaded to reveal any information they have?” I asked wryly.

“They better or else I think a personal visit from Master Yoda will be in order,” Master Koon grumbled.

I stared at the galaxy map around Mon Cala, “Have we asked the question of why?”

“Their objective, you mean, commander?” Kolina asked.

“Yes, highness. Is it simply conquest to secure their flank against a future scenario where Mon Cala is being used by the Republic as a stepping stone into the heart of the Separatist north or is it for some other purpose? You’re only two days away from Raxus Prime. Your shipyards perhaps?”

Kolina fiddled with the fleshy small ‘tentacles’ under his mouth. “Perhaps. The Mon Cala Shipyards yoked to the Separatist war machine would be a nightmare this galaxy doesn’t want to see.”

“If they want to capture the industry and shipyards of Mon Cala intact, that does give us some room to maneuver,” Anakin pointed out.

“It would depend on how many aqua droids they have to use, we can also bet they’ll use cloaked Trident class assault ships again.”

Master Koon nodded in agreement, “We must all make best speed to Junkfort. We’ll gather our forces from the local garrison, including reinforcements from our bases in northern Hutt space, creating a task group. Skywalker, contact Senator Amidala and relay our request for reinforcements from the gungans using the fastest ships they have access to.”

“Yes, master.”

“Thank you, Generals. You give this old king hope.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can, highness.”

“May the Force be with us.”

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As much as I wished the Clarity would stay in Kashyyyk, it threatened the wookiee’s non-alignment too much. It was no surprise then that King Grakchawwaa formally thanked us for stopping the ‘rogue elements’, rescuing the victims, repatriating the remains of the killed wookiees, rescuing Chewbacca and in the most diplomatic manner possible, told us to get the star destroyer out of his system immediately.

Anakin and I commandeered a Nu-class military shuttle from the Clarity, loaded all the surviving ARC troopers and Blades aboard, including my new royally approved life debtee.

Chewie boarded the shuttle now properly looking like he was ready for war. He had visited Kashyyyk for a few hours, sorted out affairs with his own family, donned wroshyr armor, his own personal bowcaster, a Heartlance - a spear-like vibro weapon for keeping enemies at a distance, and a Spiritblade at his hip - a wookiee vibrosword essentially.

He sat down heavily next to me and gave me a pointed look. “You have a standing invitation into my tribe’s home for a visit, to be done at your earliest convenience. My wife and son especially want to meet you.”

I looked up at him and shook my head, “Sorry, wife and son? What’s their names?” Of course, I knew Chewbacca had an immediate family, but to already have offspring? He therefore was clearly older than I had imagined and I just sucked at telling a wookiee’s true age from appearance alone. I probably should’ve used the Force, but I had been so focused on sheer survival that such a trivial detail had escaped me. I focused on that now and immediately sensed that I was a spring chicken in comparison. He was definitely over a century old, maybe even 150. His relative skinniness was because he had not reached his ‘prime’, which was somewhere around two centuries for wookiees or maybe that was just his nature. It also helped that he was now properly groomed and cleaned, his fur gave a lot of volume and created the impression he was bigger, the armor also helped a lot with that.

“My wife’s name is Mallotobuck and my son’s is Lumpawaroo.”

“I’ll remember that. I hope she wasn’t too hard on you.”

“Our lifetimes are long, Ahsoka. Separation is painful but it’s accepted in times of war and strife. She understands well and is grateful to you beyond measure for saving my life. Though I warn you that Lumpawaroo will be a pest with every question under the canopy for you.”

“How old is he?”

“Twelve standard years,” Chewie said with a forlorn tone and I sensed a sorrow in him. “He will be ready to take the Krrsihr in a month and I know I will not be there for it. Sorry, it’s the coming-of-age ritual all wookiees take at that age. They have to enter into the wilds alone and return with silk fibers from a syren plant.”

Given that more than half of every plant on Kashyyyk was some flavor of carnivorous with all manner of methods of luring prey and even moving in a limited fashion, this was clearly not as simple as picking a flower in a field.

I would not dishonor the life debt and apologize for this, as the blame rightfully belonged with the original trandoshan who had abducted Chewie and who had already died by my hand.

The shuttle rumbled and whined as its repulsors pushed it off the bay deck and barely a few seconds later was clear of the exterior hangar doors of the Clarity.

“Chewie, question, how comfortable are you swimming?”

“Very comfortable. We train as pups, though it is something avoided as we grow older. Freshwater is agreeable, but saltwater is awful on our fur.”

“What about under the water?”

I felt Chewbacca’s immediate dread at the very thought. He looked at me with wide, intent eyes. “Why do you ask?”

I patted him on the shoulder, “Don’t worry, we’ll be able to train on our way to Mon Cala, after we fit you up with some SCUBA gear.”

He just shook his head rapidly, “No, please… anything but this.”

“Can a bowcaster fire underwater by the way?”

His mouth opened and what looked like an aghast expression on his wookiee features, “Ahsoka!”

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It was a three and half day journey to Junkfort.

It got its name from the only thing of real interest in the system, a very ugly space station that orbited the local star where a second planet usually was. Only in Junkfort’s case, there hadn’t been enough stellar material left over from the star’s formation and the system only featured a single barely habitable rock that was only used by locals for mining.

Its other notable reason for existing was simply its position and status as a prime smuggling route from Hutt space directly into what had been Republic space in the Outer Rim. Spice from the Kessel mines flowed through here.

Junkfort station itself was an agglomeration of large starships and modules cobbled together to form a far greater structure. It was large enough even to act as a shipyard in its own right, but usually just served to upgrade and modify the starships of smugglers with all sorts of systems and parts that were illegal in Republic space.

Then the advent of the Clone War and the Treaty with the Hutts had hit the system and its denizens like a meteor.

Junkfort was now the primary staging system of the Thirteenth Sector Army of the GAR, which had added a Golan Defense Platform into a low orbit of the only planet and a Haven class medical station. Navy ships of every description and role arrived and departed to support the current battlefront in the Boonta system, which was just 9 hours away in a coreward direction.

The smugglers of Junkfort kept their heads low for the most part and got on with their business. Those who were stupid didn’t last long in the smuggling business, so they knew not to mess with the clones who could wipe out their little space station with a few volleys from a star destroyer. In the same vein, the Republic couldn’t really mess with the smuggling because that would jeopardize the treaty with the Hutts. So a live and let live paradigm had quietly developed between the men of the 13th Army and the smugglers who made Junkfort their home and waystation.

Waiting for us near the Golan station was Master Koon’s own brand new flagship Venator, the Judgment and two others, Hammer and Vigil.

It was nice walking onto the bridge, because it almost felt like the Resolute. The Judgment had all the same incremental improvements but these had been built in from day one. My correspondence with Lira Blissex at KDY was bearing very interesting fruit indeed.

Behind me I felt Chewie looking around with naked interest at everything around him. For all his diverse skills developed over many years, being an excellent shot, a pilot, the big wookiee was at heart a techie and he was clearly taking mental notes.

He wouldn’t ordinarily have been allowed here, but I had neatly solved that problem by effectively deputizing him in the Jedi Order. A fact visibly demonstrated by the Jedi symbol pinned onto his armored bandoleer and giving him a brevet rank of a Lieutenant in the GAR. He’d have much to learn on the job, as I had.

“Welcome to the Judgment,” Master Koon greeted, standing next to the command chair.

“Nice ship,” Anakin conceded.

“That it is, Skywalker. I’m afraid further pleasantries must be postponed. I need you to remain in Junkfort to take command and finish assembling the task group for the eventual battle on Mon Cala. Ahoska and myself must make the best speed towards the target system in the meantime with what we’ve already assembled. The vanguard of the CIS fleet has increased speed and we need to stop them. The Mon Cala has other infrastructure and colonies in their system and this vanguard will be able to wreak havoc before our task group arrives.”

Anakin clearly didn’t like the idea, but saw the necessity of it.

“I’ll plant my flag on the Golan until the Resolute arrives then. Senator Amidala and a gungan army division is on its way as well.”

“Interesting,” Koon mused. “Is she in command of them?”

“Yes, Boss Lyonie insisted it as a condition for them coming.”

“I hope they are not delayed on the way. I’ve already begun training the troops we have here on the Judgment as best as we can to simulate underwater battles and we will be at a disadvantage. A single normally non-lethal hit on a trooper is usually enough for an instant kill, as their suit integrity is compromised and the ocean does the rest.”

“I’ve been thinking about that and I think the gungans have something that will definitely help there,” Anakin smirked.

“Good, Ahsoka, Chewbacca, get yourself some quarters on board, we leave within the hour.”

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The push to the Mon Calamari system took a further two days of navigation through the weaving hyperlanes of the sector. As much as it slowed down our approach it’s also what kept the door open to enter the system from the south.

There were eight significant celestial bodies in the system, four planets and four ‘ice worlds’. Essentially minor planetoids that were primarily used as resource extraction colonies, with their primary export being the freshwater ice and other minerals that were then shipped to Mon Cala which sat in the second orbit around the star.

Mon Cala, or Dac, as it was known in the local tongue, was a world of 95% ocean, with the only landmass being minor islands and thin archipelagos. It was currently home to 27 billion sentients and two species, the Mon Cala and the Quarren. The former having evolved in the shallows of the planet’s oceans, whilst the latter in the deeper depths. This naturally led to conflict, but those wars were so ancient, it had been over long before even the Old Republic had made first contact. The Mon Cala and Quarren had already been united under a single monarchical government and spacefaring with primitive hyperdrives, when Old Republic explorers had found them.

“Any updates from Mon Cala?” I asked Master Koon as we both stood over the primary bridge holotank, displaying the full extent of the system to us.

“Not since their last contact a day ago,” Koon shook his head. “I think that we’re going to find the Separatist vanguard has beaten us here.”

He walked off to his command seat, sat down and opened a comlink. “All ships, battlestations. Set condition one. Prepare for a combat emergence from hyper.”

The effect was immediate as combat alarms wailed and the bridge lighting changed to a dim blue. Bridge crewmen strapped themselves into harnesses and donned helmets and sealed the bodysuits under their uniforms to potential vacuum rated conditions.

I threaded my lekku and montrals into my helmet, sealed it up and strapped myself into a nearby seat.

My mind reached out and I double checked that Chewie was managing to get into his own vac suit. He had decided to make himself useful in the Judgment’s engineering spaces, neatly fitting in under the command of the chief engineer down there.

Soon enough…

“Emergence in 3… 2… 1…”

The three star destroyers burst into existence in normal space at the extreme edge of the Mon Cala system, a million kilometers beyond the outermost orbit of Iceworld Four.

I glared into the holotank as passive sensors pulled in data and rendered it as fast as it could.

The good news, no enemy ships were within any weapons range out here. The bad, a wolfpack of four Munificent frigates and one Recusant was around Iceworld Three and already laying siege to it.

Iceworld Three was currently in a south-easterly position around the star, giving it a distance from the Republic vanguard of about 97 million kilometers.

“What do you think, Ahsoka?”

I pulled up the database stats for Iceworld Three.

“Four thousand people work and call that place home, Master. Their automated defenses are unmanned ground turrets and satellite based. They won’t hold for much longer. We have no choice. We use a micro jump, launching everything at them as we come out.”

My hands reached into the holotank and designated an emergence that would put us ten thousand kilometers z-positive over the enemy.

It sucked to use the new tactic now and not against the main enemy fleet, but it was either this or watch as everyone down there died.

Master Koon fully understood the dilemma. “Very well. Nav, plot a jump.”

“Plotting a jump, General.”

Using the full power of three networked navcomputers between the Judgment, Hammer and Vigil, with dozens of astromechs, the jump was plotted in just under eight minutes.

“Engaging hyperjump.”

For all that it had been tested with as much secrecy as possible, deep in the core worlds, it was still a butt clenching moment. It was only possible because of the next generation of hyper initiators fitted to the newest drives built in KDY. They still had the label of experimental attached to them and the chance of something going catastrophically wrong was there. The needs of war had pushed them through the decades of testing that would’ve been done in peacetime.

The view of space outside streaked and tore, the typical tunnel of hyperspace barely finished forming before it already tore apart and resolved into normal space again.

Iceworld Three’s very small mass shadow really helped here and all three Venators found themselves a mere nine thousand kilometers above the enemy.

In any other situation, the jump would’ve been a nasty failure due to the inaccuracy.

“Open fire,” Master Koon ordered evenly.

The Venators’ ripple fired sixteen torpedoes each, even as they oriented to bring their noses down towards the enemy.

The clone gunners and computers had broad dorsal aiming profiles on the surprised enemy fleet.

Barely seconds later as the droid Tri-fighters and Vultures began peeling off the Munificents, the turbolasers of the Republic vanguard spoke.

The dorsal shields of a Munificent held for only a moment, before popping under combined onslaught, where a follow up salvo slammed into the upper hull armor, gouging out huge craters and sending flash fried atmosphere into space to be snuffed out.

The third salvo smashed into the rear engineering spaces and secondary explosions began ripping throughout the ship.

The torpedo assault arrived, also targeting only a single Munificent to saturate the point defenses.

Even so, 33 torpedoes were intercepted, leaving fifteen to slam into the shields of the unfortunate Munificent.

The first eight did the job of battering them down, whilst the last seven finished their attack runs, detonating directly against the hull.

A bright flash of light and an expanding shell of energetic debris heralded its complete destruction.

Hyena bombers now pushed themselves off the remaining Munificents, as the Vultures and Tri-fighters quickly closed the distance.

“Launch counter missiles,” ordered Master Koon.

The space around Judgment, Hammer and Vigil was quickly turned into the most beautiful sight to my eyes, a near Macross style missile massacre.

All of which was aimed at the incoming enemy fighters.

Who in turn began firing their own forward cannons to saturate space in front of them.

Counter missiles died in scores but their development was the Republic’s response to the game of numbers that the CIS constantly used.

In moments, over 140 enemy fighters were reduced to flaming debris and wreckage still coasting with their initial momentum.

The three star destroyer’s point defense armament erupted as the ranges closed even further, targeting the survivors of the first enemy fighter wave.

The two remaining Munificents began orienting to bring their own spinal turbolaser armament to bear, whilst the Recusant began peppering the Hammer with its own turbolasers.

Hammer began retasking its defense, using its interceptors to slap away more and more turbolaser blasts, at the cost of letting more fighters go.

“Enemy target locks!” reported Sensors.

Twenty six enemy torpedoes launched into space and immediately started burning right for the Judgment.

“Retask next counter missile salvo. Time on Target barrage on Munificent Theta,” Master Koon snapped.

“Theta, acknowledged,” reported Guns.

The three Venators spewed counter missiles, torpedoes and turbolaser in a stupendous barrage of concentrated firepower.

The targeted Munificent shields barely mattered in the equation. They went down as it was still turning to bring its spinal armament to bear and took the salvos right on the chin.

Four torpedoes made it through the active point defenses and utterly obliterated the spinal turbolasers.

Secondary explosions visibly crawled along the length of the Munificent, its power system and reactor scramming just in time to prevent a catastrophic overload.

It immediately began listing in an uncontrolled manner as it simply obeyed the laws of motion and all turbolaser and cannon fire shut down.

Whether the droid crew could save the ship at this point was made moot, when the Republic vanguard released another barrage.

The third bright flash of light lit up the void as Munificent Theta became a huge spherical eruption of energy, fire and debris.

“I want a maximum barrage of counter missiles, point defense to prioritize Hyenas.”

It took a nerve-wracking half a minute for that to happen.

Master Koon had also clearly foreseen what was going to happen when the CIS vanguard was on its last legs.

The last Munificent was shattered when suddenly every remaining enemy fighter began going on suicide runs, becoming missiles themselves instead of programmed droid fighters.

Space around the Republic vanguard turned into a chaotic maelstrom as the Venators emptied their counter missile launchers in a huge wave, every erg of energy pushed to the interceptors and point defense cannons.

Even the Recusant turned and redlined its engines, aiming itself to ram the Vigil.

Vultures, tri-fighters and Hyenas died en-masse.

So dense was the counter fire that enemy fighters simply ceased to exist, their debris being hammered by laser, plasma and immolating proton hammers from counter missiles.

I felt a shudder through the bridge deck as a Tri-fighter managed to weather the storm and slammed itself into the ventral shields of the Judgment.

A Hyena and Vulture ended their existence on the ventral shields of the Hammer.

“Time on target barrage, get that Recusant out of my battlespace,” Master Koon grumbled, as Vigil also took hits.

My concentration peaked as the Battle Meditation fell on every soul in the vanguard.

I didn’t want to pull this technique on every battle I was involved in but this was insane!

The Recusant’s shields died, turbolaser blasts hit and hit, gouts of fire erupting from the forward hull, yet the thing kept spiraling in. It’s shifting narrow front profile absorbing all the incoming fire.

“Full torpedo launch, attack its engines!” shouted Master Koon.

48 torpedoes were ejected into the maelstrom of fire that the Venators were projecting outward.

Such was the chaotic nature of space around the ships at the moment, that only 28 of them survived getting through the inner defensive perimeter.

Yet the Recusant’s active defenses were still up around the rear quarters of the ship.

Five torpedoes survived to enter their terminal attack runs.

Space flashed as the rear engine modules of the ship vanished in a blue liberation of energy.

What was left of the Recusant was physically propelled forward as if it was a nuclear pulse detonation ship.

“Evasive action!”

The Vigil’s captain had already taken the initiative to do so.

The moment the wreckage of the Recusant became uncontrolled and predictable, every bit of propulsion the ship had was engaged to evade.

Turbolaser blasts slammed into the wreckage and debris.

Vigil’s tractor beams joined in the effort in repulsion mode.

The Venator’s shields blossomed into visibility as the wreckage just scraped off its port side.

The entire Republic vanguard let out a breath in relief.

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With the orbitals secure, just under an hour later I found myself inside a LAAT gunship alongside Chewie and Commander Wolffe of 104th Clone Battalion.

Fifteen companies of troops were huddled inside the gunships, which were in close formation with carrier ships hauling a full squadron of TX-130 Saber tanks. Z-95 Headhunters ranged around us in escort formation, whilst more squadrons went ahead to secure the airspace over the small industrial colony of Iceworld Three.

Our attack had caught the deployment of the Separatists to the colony completely flatfooted.

A number of C9979 landing craft were unloading war droid companies and the beginnings of a battle had already started.

The colony was primarily situated underneath the massive ranging glaciers, with huge domes sticking out of them that allowed the weak sunlight into the colony and air to circulate. The domes had primarily automated defenses on their perimeter, with large laser and plasma turrets that would pop out of the ice.

It was all meant to deter piracy and large scale raids, as the Mon Cala knew that help was hours away at best speed from the homeworld.

I looked grimly into the small gunship holotank across from Commander Wolffe.

The clone commander was distinguished by a large scar across his right eye that slashed vertically down. The souvenir of a direct hand to hand fight with a BX droid that the commander had won. That eye had been replaced with a milky white cybernetic, that gave the man a rather fearsome countenance. In this case, it was not without merit and the outside was now merely reflecting the temperament of the clone.

“It’s like the Seppies threw their entire catalog of equipment at these Mon Cala; B1s, 2s, BX, STAPs, DSD1s, Persuader tanks and AATs. Hyenas for air to ground bombardment. What for? It’s overkill,” he said with a sneer. Then we saw one of the defensive emplacements open fire and it utterly obliterated an AAT with a single shot. “Oh, nice.”

“Little known fact commander,” I said with a small smirk. “The Mon Cala has a high level of technology. In some areas of high energy physics they’re more advanced than the general galactic standard and they’ve been very good at obscuring it. My personal wish is to one day refit the Resolute with Mon Cala built turbolasers and chuck the Taim & Bak guns into the bin.”

“That’d be a sight to see, commander.” An eager light entered his eyes. Yes, this clone really liked his guns and explosions.

“So, the enemy position has definitely forced our hand somewhat here. Our hovering Saber tanks make the glacial terrain not as much of an obstacle, but traction for troops is going to be problematic, even with their cold gear. We’re going to have to land directly in the action as close as possible.” I tapped the positions I had in mind on the holo.

Wolffe looked at the holo and nodded in agreement. “If we didn’t have air cover, I’d say it’d be suicide, but the Z95s doing some strafing runs and landing ground ordinance will be just what we need. The gunships will definitely have to help as well.”

I nodded, “Let’s get it done, commander. We need to evac this entire colony before the main force of Seppies arrive.”

“Are we going to be repeating this dance at the other Iceworlds?”

“Unlikely, at that point the word of the invasion will have spread and the Mon Cala will be able to do it themselves with those big ships of theirs. Chewie,” I turned to the big wookiee. “No matter what, you stick like glue to me. Understand?”

He nodded his shaggy head.

“Good, let’s be about it.”

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In over a century of life, Chewbacca had fought many beings for his life and survival in the forest of Kashyyyk. He could even say he’d fought the Trade Federation before, fighting alongside his father and leading an entire tribe of wookiees to claim the rediscovered moon of Alaris Prime for his people. A time when the soulless corporation still only had the B1 droid and the AAT in its arsenal.

The doors to the gunship opened onto the icescape below and he knew immediately that the ‘battle’ for Alaris was barely a skirmish in comparison to what he was about to experience.

The local sun barely illuminated the terrain, giving a stark contrast to blasts and beams of plasma and laser that scythed across the battlefield from both sides.

He felt his heart race in fear and his eyes widened as he took in the scene. Yet somehow, that fear had no restraint on his actions at all. There was no doubt, there was only surety.

The gunship thumped as it landed and he fell in awkward steps behind Ahsoka as they all spilled out onto the ice.

He felt the hard spikes of his hastily built ‘shoes’ bite and gain traction.

Wookiees made it a point of pride to never cover their big feet with anything. The soles of their feet hardened naturally through rigorous exploration of the forests, but there was some terrain that the wookiee foot couldn’t conquer.

Ahsoka’s lightsabers burst into life angrily and began an eye-catching, beautiful spectacle around her.

His mind barely took it in though as he roared a challenge into the dim day of this world, shouldered his bowcaster and got to work rendering these droids into scrap.

His first shot of the day didn’t miss as it speared through two B1s standing behind each other, hurling both backward and knocking over three others.

The cacophony of battle washed over him.

He saw Z-95s screaming overhead, their cannons sending streams of bolts scything through droid formations.

Saber tanks side strafing to avoid missiles from B2 rocket droids, before their dual heavy laser cannons retaliated, sending ice and droid wreckage flying upward.

Ahsoka deflecting blaster shots straight back at the enemy, before suddenly kneeling, hands against the ice.

Then things began happening that seemed straight from wookiee myth.

All along the Republic line of advance, the ice itself seemed to heave upward, forming barriers of cover behind which the troops could take shelter from the fire of the enemy.

Chewie barely kept his astonishment from overtaking his reason, firing the final shot from his bowcaster; destroying a B2.

As the tallest person on the battlefield, he kept himself low in a running crouch behind the lightsabers of Ahsoka as she rose again and resumed her advance.

He slapped home a new magazine for his bowcaster and immediately marked in the distance an AAT with a boxy droid sticking its head out.

He counted his blessings and fired, a moment later the droid had no head.

‘Nice shot, Chewie, one tac droid down.’

He understood how valuable being able to speak on a battlefield was. Through the Force, it wouldn’t be affected by distance, jamming or conventional technology, but Ahsoka’s thoughts coming directly into his head was rather creepy on a visceral level.

Their advance had reached another point where she had to use the Force to generate more cover for her troops.

She did so but this time didn’t stop there.

A multitude of ice chunks almost two meters large also rose into the air and shot themselves forward at great speed.

They bowled into the droid formations wrecking and burying scores of droids.

As much as she was doing to help, the tanks destroying scores of droids, the Headhunters scything the ground, Chewie could see they were also leaving behind many bodies as troopers were inevitably hit by droid fire.

Ahsoka ducked into cover behind her own ice redoubt, her breathing was harsh and deep, her eyes closed.

He knelt next to her in concern, but she immediately patted his shoulder in reassurance.

“I’m fine, just a bit winded.”

A line of Saber tanks advanced, launchers popped out of their hulls and sent missiles streaking into the sky to shoot down a squadron of Hyena bombers that had been attempting to make a run on the advancing Republic troops.

She took a deep breath in and out before her sabers seemed to move with their usual speed again and stepped out from behind the redoubt and into the fire again.

Chewbacca followed and unleashed his bowcaster.

His perception of the battle narrowed, there were only targets, taking the shot and keeping himself low behind Ahsoka.

More carrier ships made combat drops behind them, letting go of the AT-TE tanks, who immediately began sending mass driver rounds into the opposing enemy AATs.

The onboard Repeaters scythed across the enemy lines.

Missiles arced straight towards Ahsoka from the Persuader tanks in the rear of the enemy lines.

Chewbacca had no time to feel fear at all as she made sweeping gestures of her hands, causing the missiles to either veer wildly off course to detonate among the enemy or even send it straight back to the tank who had fired.

DSD1 spider droids rapidly crawled forward on their legs, sending blaster cannon shots that destroyed a number of advancing Saber tanks.

Z-95s swooped in on a fresh run, sending scores of concussion missiles that hammered them from above.

Then Chewbacca heard an annoying whine cut across the air as a swarm of STAPs with B1 droids piloting them descended on the battlefield.

Their Repeaters forced the advancing troops to either seek cover or be cut down from above.

The AT-TE’s turned their own Repeaters skyward on their ball turrets and started to retaliate against the STAPs, sending numerous of the flying vehicles to spin out of control and crash.

Ahsoka blurred and sent a bolt that had been going for her head back into the distance, one of her green blades now permanently orbited him.

‘Commando droids are sniping into the battlefield,’ she commented.

Chewie felt a mental itch and traced it to his left, he raised his bowcaster, flicking the button that raised the integral scope out of its housing.

He sighted on the two BX droids on a glacial hill just over three hundred meters away.

He felt invisible hands gently guide the bowcaster, adjusting the aim slightly.

‘Now,’ Ashoka thought.

Chewie pulled the trigger.

The hybrid plasma bolt took less than a second to cross the distance, then cored straight through the prone BX’s head, continued through the majority of its body before exiting out between its legs.

He fired again, sending its partner into digital oblivion.

Ahsoka raised an ice redoubt in front of her, ducked behind and gestured for him to join her.

He did so and was surprised when he regained some situational awareness.

They had gone as far as they could, the majority of the enemy B1s and B2s were destroyed and left as wreckage behind them. The colony domes were looming ahead.

All that was left was the tank battle between the remaining Separatist forces.

The Republic spearhead had succeeded in driving a wedge straight through them, dividing the enemy into two camps.

Ahsoka projected a holo from her palm showing the battlefield in detail, then began tapping into it and issuing orders over the radio.

Saber and AT-TEs split their advance, turning left and right.

Whilst new carriers arrived and dropped more Republic tanks on each flank of the divided enemy, completing an envelopment that Chewie couldn’t help but feel in awe of at how smoothly and professionally it was done.

“Nicely done, Chewie, nineteen kills,” she said over the radio, even as she adjusted and worked with the holo in her palm.

“Really?” he asked in surprise. He checked his ammo pouches and had to concede her observation as having merit. “It’s certainly only because you shielded me that it was so easy.”

“I helped there, yes, but many clones can say the same thing. It’s why I’m here. Your performance under fire was excellent nevertheless for someone who’s never experienced a battle of this scale.”

Z-95s streaked overhead, launching another volley into the trapped enemy.

“What now?”

“Now we begin the hard part, convincing people to leave behind their homes.”

“Ahsoka, come in,” said the voice of Master Koon.

“Ahsoka here, what is it, master?”

“We’ve determined the cause of the silence from the Mon Cala. King Kolina has been assassinated.”

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A/N: Water world arc begins.  A few interludes will also come bundled in next chapter. Enjoy the weekend and stay awesome folks.

The Force Wills - Chapter 81

The Darksaber slashed through skin, muscle and bone with a searing finality.

With a steady cadence of breathing, I let my body relax somewhat and lowered my blades to survey the battlefield’s aftermath.

ARC troopers were emerging from cover and began to check bodies, though in many cases there weren’t any bodies to mark as they’d been largely incinerated.

To one side, River dumped himself onto his backside and seemed to look disappointed that there were no more trandoshans to smash or shoot. He also looked at the Z6 rotary cannon and gave it a good shake, it had long since run out of ammo and wasn’t looking in good shape as the savrip had used it as a club.

At my side, both Jinx and Chewie were scanning their surroundings, still searching for threats and targets.

I eased my hold on the Force and relaxed the blanket of Battle Meditation I had thrown over the fortress.

Anakin approached and extinguished his own blade, “Well done, Ahsoka. You as well, Padawan Zetik.”

Jinx was visibly nervous and somewhat awed at the sight of Anakin. “Yes Ma- I mean, thank you, Knight Skywalker, for coming to rescue us.”

Anakin nodded and then gave Chewie an assessing look.

“Master, meet Chewbacca. Chewbacca, Anakin Skywalker.”

Chewie lowered his rifle and thumped his chest, “An honor to meet the one who mentored such a warrior.”

Anakin was clearly amused, “Well, we don’t exactly consider ourselves warriors, but I understand what you’re saying, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Ahsoka, just received word from R2, there are twenty ships decelerating hard to enter into a landing trajectory straight for this island.”

“Given you’re not being all grim and gloomy, I take it these are our wookiee reinforcements?”

“It’s the only thing that fits, but they’re keeping com silent,” Anakin raised his palm and a holo of the ships in question appeared.

The largest of them were what I’d call a frigate and their design lineage was all over the place; Corellian, Kuat and Fondor. Someone had taken these ships, clearly intended for civilian applications and turned them into warships bristling with laser, plasma cannons and even singular spinal mounted turbolasers. It wasn’t true capital ship size but I could imagine together they’d take out a Munificent or two easily.

“Those are General Tarfful’s ships,” Chewie confirmed.

“Good,” Anakin said evenly, though I could sense he was very relieved. Putting the ARC troopers and Blades through another ground battle so soon was not ideal at all. We had lost another six troopers and a Blade, Ursa Wren had also been wounded. I could hear the medics amongst the clones were hard busy attending to the casualties over the company frequency. “We have also heard from the Clarity, they’ll be in orbit within the hour.”

“Any official response from the trandoshans yet?” I asked wryly.

“None, though I imagine the armed wookiee fleet in orbit of their moon will change that quickly.”

Chewie growled, “Their cowardly government will be screaming in rage at both King Grakchawwaa and the Republic as soon as they can.”

“Oh, they won’t like the fact that you’ve got a fleet?” I asked in amusement.

“No, the peace in the Kashyyyk system between our planets is always resting on the edge of an orga-vine. Now that the Separatists have forced us to create a military, I can see the trandoshans running straight into their arms. The fact that they were equipped with CIS heavy fighters means it has already happened to an extent.”

“A fact we’ll take all the way to the Senate,” Anakin declared. “Ahsoka, get everyone off that ship and into the Fortress. I’ve got an idea.”

“I know that tone,” I pointed a finger at him. “This is either going to be good or crazy.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

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For all that the wookiees were relative novices in modern military ops, there was something quite awe inspiring about watching nearly a full company of big hairy, wroshyr armored warriors descend on cables from their equivalent of a big assault transport. Each one was armed with a bowcaster that was as unique to the warrior as a lightsaber was to a Jedi. They generally fired a metal quarrel that was enveloped in plasma energy, to give them enough kinetic stopping power to easily fell the many dangerous beasts on the lower levels of Kashyyyk’s forests. Those weren’t the only weapons they carried, as many other warriors carried Repeaters and long barreled blaster rifles on their backs, all modified to be used by wookiees.

Half of their ships had descended to hover menacingly over the island and the floating fortress, whilst the rest remained in orbit to keep the space above us secure.

Anakin, Rex, Chewbacca and myself stood outside on the fortress’ outer decks and watched the spectacle unfold.

Prominently approaching us, as all the warriors dispersed across the platform to examine and secure all the dead trandoshans, was a wookiee who stood well over two meters tall. He was clad in ornate wroshyr armor over his chest, pauldrons on his broad shoulders and it was all joined by utility belts similar to the one the Chewie used. His fur was deep brown with blonde streaks radiating outward from his eyes that gave him an especially fearsome appearance.

“General Tarfful, thank you for coming,” Anakin bowed his head in Jedi custom.

“Jedi General Skywalker, I see we missed the fun,” Tarfful’s growl-groans of Shyriiwook, rumbled from his chest and mouth like the strongest bass instrument I’d ever heard.

“These were actually their reinforcements.”

Tarfful raised a hairy inquisitive brow, seemingly quite impressed, then glanced at Chewbacca. “Chewie, you wyyyschokk, how did you let these hairless reptiles catch you?”

“I was just-”

Tarfful raised a dark hand and shook a finger, “No excuses. Your father is going to rightfully tan your hide when you get back, though I think your mother will beat him to it.”