Star Wars

Gleaners

Chapter I

Part 1

The blue-white binary shone through the clouds of Paska Minor, but Captain Baxta could see only the hazy glare of its light. An insectoid Gand, Baxta possessed compound eyes, an asset for a gleaner, where spotting tiny details among the detritus of war was an asset. Baxta was riding a Swoop, driving it through the tangled battlefield of manufactured warriors. The rest of his team was approaching from different directions, as was their custom. Scavengers such as themselves stood a better chance of survival as isolated bystanders on the fringes of a battle, not clumped together in squads where a battle droid may classify them as a band of insurgents. Even holstered weapons have been known to draw fire here. Baxta signaled to his team using the tight-beam transmitter on his gauntlet, and shifted direction towards the target. Radio silence was crucial here. No one liked gleaners. Parasites that fed on the broken treasure of galactic politics. But they had been a part of every planet's bloody history since civilization's dawn, and survived each one's collapse. They were the galaxy's carrion, and this war had become a grand corpse indeed.

Paska Minor was the site of a significant battle, between the Confederacy of Independent Systems and the Galactic Republic. The particulars of the engagement mattered little to captain Baxta, although the nature of his job necessitated that he be familiar with them. The Republic's Golden Sun fleet arrived in orbit to attack the Separatist naval and ground forces defending this breadbasket world. Led by one Admiral Do'vey, the Golden Sun fleet suffered minimal losses. The C.I.S. warships scattered, Do'vey's picket line held, and as streaks of twisted metal striped the sky, Baxta soon saw the triangular arrowheads of Republic Acclamator-class assault barges descend from orbit, blue fire lancing out into C.I.S. positions. That was 9 hours ago, as seen from a muddy blind in the foothills overlooking the valley. Now, the battle was over. The C.I.S. was routed, their myriad war machines scattered along trenchlines and duracrete fortifications. As Baxta sped over the flat terrain, his compound eyes took in a dozen minor details each second, processing everything.

This was a once a Nysillum field, not long ago. That much was clear from the rotting plants littering the few places not ravaged by recent combat. The herb grew only in specific soil and was used in the production of the healing solution Bacta. The C.I.S. had scant need for medicinal crops, but to the flesh and blood Grand Army of the Republic, it was a strategic asset. So as the Separatists dug in, they evicted countless Paskan farmers and let the fields run fallow. Baxta sped over a clump of armored B2 battle droids, shredded by the particle shrapnel of an Acclamator's turbolaser batteries. These had been felled in the initial assault, useless as salvage. No, the real merchandise lay further in, among the battlements. That was where the fighting went hand-to-hand. Low-Altitude Assault-Transports, laden with clone troopers, strafed open a landing zone and disgorged their troops. Ruined hulks passed him by, some of them heavy C.I.S. vehicles like MTTs and four-legged homing droids, others the very tanks and transports of the Republic's airborne brigades. Some were shot down here on approach. The landing zone was just ahead, and Baxta could see the white of clone armor now, as the first wave of organic casualties came into view.

Suddenly, the proximity alert light on his Swoop flashed. He shifted his brain's focus to the lenses on his right, and noticed Licto's large airspeeder converging along his path. The three-eyed herbivore waved with a thick, gloved hand, and took position behind Baxta. Licto was a Gran, often stereotyped as greedy, stubborn gluttons. Licto did his part to fulfill that perception. But he was also a skilled mechanic, one who kept their ship, the Spoil 4, in working order. He was flying the Spoil's bulky transport sled, Toy Box, the craft's twin stabilizers jutting forward like the jaws of a beetle.

Baxta shifted his focus to a speck on the ravaged horizon to his left. Another member of his team was coming into view, and with a tilt of his lenses he was able to spot the bulky silhouette of Renege, a female Givin with a proclivity for airless environments. Her species was covered by a bony exoskeleton, perfect for the low-pressure and even hard-vaccum environments they evolved in. Renege was of uncommonly large frame for her species, serving as their security expert. Not caring for the mathematics and scientific endeavors her race was known for, she left the mining profession after the Mining Guild initiated military-style operations against her union on one of the moons of Fondor. After the fighting, she became an outlaw, the state in which Baxta found her. She was young for her species, but still 47 years old. Baxta suspected she had lived a storied life among the stars, as working on starships was probably the best way a Givin could make a living besides working behind a desk, considering their physiology.

The three of them sped along the ruined Separatist lines. The war machine hulks were getting bigger now, as were the bunkers and turrets that the Separatists had hastily erected to thwart the clone army's assault. An AAT lay with its main cannon askew, behind it the burnt remains of an AT-TE walker, it's hatch doors open, a dead clone slumped over the controls of its heavy cannon. They were getting close to their target, the clump of ruined Hailfire droids that were knocked out in the Republic's second wave. Their targeting control systems and state-of-the-art homing missiles were prized salvage that would fetch a high price on the black market. From his blind in the foothills, he saw that the LAAT gunships took out this batch without the Hailfires launching a single missile. The Republic was learning. They hit them at a high angle, above the droid's targeting window. As the broken wheels of the missile tanks loomed ahead, Baxta received a vibration from the comlink affixed to his rebreather. After a short crackle, the voice of the team's resident human came in.

"Kilo here. I'm at the site. It looks good. Reckon 40% of the missiles are intact, and 30% of the control units. For a column this size, that's more than we can carry."

Baxta activated his intercom by clicking his mandibles twice, "Good. Toy Box is en-route. Is perimeter secure?"

"Affirmative. No movement except for…" He paused, "Sorry, but it's easier to explain once you get here, sir."

The line cut off, and Baxta chose not to push the matter further. Kilo was an old hand, a natural spacer and a brawler to his bones. A large man, Kilo was a Mining Guild soldier who was discharged after a Dug revolt on Malastare. That was 8 years ago, and he'd been in the shadows ever since, taking freelance bounty hunting jobs for a less violent clientele. Domestic runaways and loan fugitives were enough to pay the bills, until it became clear that unless he wanted to increase his risk profile with marks who would actually fight back, hunting fellow sentients wasn't going to pay for retirement.

Kilo was alone at the site, while the rest of the team was either en-route or with the ship, Spoil 4. Normally they would bring the Spoil to the salvage, but then Republic scanners would pick them up. Baxta didn't trust the Republic admiral to tolerate their presence here. Bothans were famously contemptuous of fringe types. They'd probably get treated worse than if they were mercenaries.

Baxta glanced again over to Licto in the Toy Box. As an airspeeder with low-yield repulsors, this was the only way to get at the choicest remains of the battle quickly without being detected. Other scavengers had landed prior to the attack, and all were itching to get in on the pickings.

Soon, Baxta, Licto and Renege were at the Hailfire droid extermination site. Five-meter wheel rims dug into the soil, and the droid's fuselages lay smoldering amid scraps of burning Nysillum. Kilo wasn't near the wreckage, however. He was standing next to a lone, flailing figure as the three other gleaners passed leisurely over him in their Swoops.

"Kilo, you have a new friend?" Renege shouted over the roar of repulsorlifts, her sidearm suddenly out in her free hand. Kilo had indeed found someone, and Baxta recognized the unit immediately. A Separatist T-series tactical droid. And it was looking at nowhere in particular, it's head swiveling erratically as it waved its arms.

Kilo laughed, "No, it's all right. Unarmed. The poor skugg doesn't even know I'm here. I think he's fritzed."

Licto touched down first, getting off his Swoop and over to Kilo. Baxta wasn't far behind, putting a hand to his methane rebreather as the ashes of the battleground swept under his Swoop. Getting off, he put a hand to his blaster as the droid suddenly turned his direction, then suddenly twisted to the right, photoreceptors bright as it seemed to track a flying object. Suddenly, the droid spoke.

"Squadrons Satchel 1 and Hawkbat 3, converge, converge. Enemy fire shifting as predicted. Hailfire group, guncraft at high angle north of your position. Evade, evade."

Licto laughed, his antenna twitching above his three eyestalks, "Hah! The clank's fighting his war!"

"Feedback loop?" Renege queried.

Baxta shook his large head, "I've seen this in past." His vocalizer warbled in broken basic, "Officer droid plans counterattack, is overwhelmed. Failing in one's programming weighs heavily on circuits. Is like trauma. T-Series not used to fighting against overwhelming odds. Designed to look for ways to put odds in favor. When this is impossible, droid will sometimes repeat scenario in head looking for variables."

Licto grunted, "So this one's crazy?"

Renege tilted her bony head, "No. I think it's more existential than that. Unable to accept the outcome of the battle, it plays back what happened in an attempt to alter the past. It overrides its own logic circuits in desperation. The battle becomes everything. After all, what's to distinguish reality between virtual reality to a droid?

The tactical droid warbled on, "Error. Defeat condition terminal. Regroup, regr-" The droid suddenly went limp, it's photoreceptors blinking off as it's head slumped over on it's shoulders. Two seconds later, it seemed to reboot, and suddenly looked again at the sky, "Incoming. Republic warships. Satchel Wing, deploy. Delta batteries, fire at will."

Kilo scoffed, "Yeah, he said that before. I reckon his war didn't last long. I secured this site ten minutes ago."

"Any trouble?" Baxta asked.

"No. The only clones here are dead ones. Medical frigates were pretty thorough."

"Wait," Licto said in his rough, low voice, "So this guy's going to just relive the battle until his core runs dry?"

Kilo shrugged, "I thought we could take him intact, but if you want to put him out of his misery…"

Licto waved him off, "What? No. I think it's hilarious. So, he did fritz."

Renege shrugged, "In a way. Droids don't react well to failure. The shock was too much."

Kilo nodded, "No damage. Clones must've ignored him. Want me to switch him off?"

The captain nodded. Even without C.I.S. intel, the T-series was good merchandise. Maybe their Republic-friendly clients would want to sift through its processor anyway, "We'll take him in the Box. OK, we get to work now. Move it!"

As the crew scurried to secure the salvage, Baxta looked up at the auburn sky. The Republic navy was still up there. He could see the glint of their ships from here. Admiral Do'Vey's Mandator-class flagship, the Indomitable, stayed up in space, too fat and clumsy to handle the perils of a gravity well. Do'Vey was an admiral of some renown, recognized for his heavy thrusts and quick attacks. Baxta didn't know who the Separatist commander was, but clearly digging in with half his force exposed was not a wise stratagem.

Confederacy air support was unreliable in the face of a determined capital ship offensive, and once the Acclamators and corvettes broke through the CIS fighter screen, it was as good as over. But the Republic didn't come out unscathed. One of their Acclamators, the Resolve, was barely able to limp back into orbit. Baxta could see a fainter light isolated from the rest in the sky. The clones were probably evacuating the ship now of all non-essential personnel. It was a blessing. The longer the Golden Sun fleet stayed tied up here, the longer the planet would be secure from the more common riff-raff. Only through Renege's C.I.S. contacts did they learn of the sudden Separatist build-up. Baxta took a chance to come here, as the Republic kept knowledge of all operations known to only the top military strata. But the C.I.S. had been tipped off somehow, and therefore so had Renege.

The surprise was the Bothan admiral's sheer brutality. Arrival to planetfall was only two hours, and the ground assault took only one. Do'vey had a reputation for brash tactics, as well as one for maintaining a tight perimeter. There was no way the admiral would let anyone through once he got here. That meant Baxta and but a handful of other plucky gleaners had the battlefront all to themselves.

The cutting torches were in full swing as Licto worked on one of the Hailfire's missile pods. Renege was securing it with the Toy Box's crane, and within a few minutes, the war droid's deadly load was cut free and gingerly lowered into the airspeeder's open cargo hold.

Licto stood on top of the Hailfire's control pod as he shouted down to Renege working the crane, "Watch the missile probes. If that pack goes off, I'll find you in Hell."

Renege scoffed, "Unifying Force, Nerf-head. Where do you get this Hell nonsense from? Relax, Lict. Hot merch is my specialty."

Kilo was at the Toy Box's console when suddenly the proximity alert sounded, "People, we have incoming. Nimbus fighters, at oh-seven-six."

Captain Baxta wasn't so seasoned that he was immune to fear, but kept his vocal tones steady, "I thought we were autistic. Do not let them triangulate the Spoil."

"Never went network to begin with, cap. There's no way… Wait, I'm picking up an engine bloom in the mountains. It's our Corellian friends. Nimbuses are intercepting the Vermillion. False alarm."

The Gand allowed himself an ammonia-filled breath of relief. He scanned the sky with his many-faceted eyes, until he was able to focus on triple streaks of con-trails from the west. Soon another streak went up off the ground, from behind the foothills. Their old rival, the Vermillion. They must had gotten greedy, careless, or both.

"Targeting locks. Discharge! The fighters are laying on." Kilo tapped his dashboard nervously. Renege finished loading the missiles, and Licto seemed to be deciding whether or not to jump down from the Hailfire.

Baxta rubbed his rebreather with concern. The Republic usually didn't fire upon noncombatants, but clearly the Bothan had a different way of doing things.

"Shield hits on the Vermillion. They are not returning fire. Damn."

"Goyeth isn't stupid," Licto called from his perch, "You don't open fire on Republic fighters if you hope they'll let you go."

Renege got up out of the crane, "Yeah. The question is, will they?"

Looking up at the sky, the captain's ammonia filter clicked rhythmically as he watched the drama unfold. The Vermillion was too far away to observe any blaster hits, but she was definitely running for space.

"Shields out. She's smoking."

Renege slid heavily off the Toy Box as she cursed under her breath. She strode to Kilo's screen, glancing quickly at the data, "Murglaks! They're going to vape them."

"Wait, Nimbus fighters are veering off. The Republic is disengaging!"

"Probably Do'vey's Jedi getting fussy." Licto said with a hoarse grunt, "Never trust a Bothan. They're like Devarorians without the sense of humor. Get on one's nerves, suddenly you're neck deep in a lawsuit. Litigious Skuggs.

Baxta didn't know what that had to do with the situation at hand, but decided not to push the Gran, "Do'vey hates interference," the captain pointed out, "and gleaners getting here before him probably wounds pride. Kilo, are we detected?"

"Nothing from the Indomitable, and she has the biggest scanners. We're clear."

"Take the tactical droid and prepare ride to the Spoil. I not want to push luck. That was too close."

Licto tapped thick fingers on the Hailfire's carapace, "C'mon, cap. I can have this thing's targeting computer out in two minutes."

The captain took another look at the sky. The large glints of the task force were still up there, and so was the more isolated glint of the wounded Acclamator off to the side. The Republic ground forces had consolidated the main Separatist encampment 20 klicks east, and the C.I.S. still had forces on the other side of the planet, probably aching for a counter-attack. "Do it. We dust in five."