Chapter 1: Last Stand
1350 Hours, Centaxday, New Year Festival Week, 2 ATC (After the Treaty of Coruscant)
Balmorran Arms Factory, Balmorra
I'm getting too old for this.
As I went to rise from my hunched-over stance, my arm almost gave way under me; that shoulder was really getting to me now. Note to self, avoid explosions in the future, I told myself. I tightened my right shoulder pauldron and turned off the holodisplay I'd been using.
Judging from the blasterfire coming from the elevator room and the ominous silence on my radio channel, Ralon Nys and 17th squad had been bested by that crew of Imps. Wonderful, more perfectly good men I just sent to their deaths-
"Stop it. It's too late for regret now," I muttered under my breath.
"Is everything alright, Grand Marshal?"
I turned and recognized the form of Jedi Knight Sedoya Senn descending the ramp of the transport shuttle that had just landed. Compared to my stature of about eight feet, Senn was a small man, but the effect that he produced when he was around…I'm not sure if all Jedi can do that, but he seemed to simply radiate calmness and confidence wherever he was. We'd been fighting together for the past two years now, shifting locations, gathering support, and organizing strategic assaults against the encroaching Imperial war machine. I hated having to send him off to Coruscant for support, but now that he was back, we could really give the Empire a black eye.
Following a short distance behind him in the standard brown, nondescript robes of a Jedi was his apprentice, Bo Savaat. He was a little taller than Senn and was of the Savaat Tribe, or Ghôsh, from Haruun Kal, giving him a skin coloration that was partly reminiscent to volcanic soil. He was never a man of many words, but you could always sense that underneath his serene composure laid the potential to perform great feats with the Force; Senn noticed this immediately and took it upon himself to ensure that Bo's talent would be honed into an aegis to defend the Republic in future times of strife. As it happened though, Bo had received most of his training in battle when Senn decided to join me and my motley crew of crusaders to keep up the fight on Balmorra and ensure that the Empire's tyranny did not take permanent residence here.
As I observed these two warriors standing before me, I realized that there was no one else I'd rather make my final stand with…except maybe Aric, but who knows where he'd been shipped off to now.
"Is everything alright, Grand Marshal?" Senn repeated, a little louder this time.
"Just dandy, Senn, don't worry about me," I replied, unable to mask the fact that my train of thought had leapt off its track and landed in another station.
"Bo and I will organize a defense perimeter around the hangar to ensure our guests receive a warm welcome. When you find the time to stop staring into the ceiling and join us, we will be most grateful," said Senn. He kept such a straight face, I wasn't sure whether he was poking fun at me or insulting me. Damn Jedi are too good at that…
As I watched the rest of the troops unload from the shuttle, I couldn't help but marvel at how far we'd come since we were "officially" sent packing.
The resistance movement was surprisingly effective even without the Republic's involvement, direct or otherwise. The Imperials had slogged it out here with us many months before, and they weren't very eager to stay behind on this godforsaken rock any longer than they had to. They began to lose the most important thing their offensive had maintained in the first place: momentum. I mean, sure, they had better-equipped soldiers and more funds than us, but we had the planet on our side. You ever try fighting a family of Kowakian monkey-lizards in the trees? I won't lie: it ain't easy, even with a jetpack. But, that's how it went: ambushing patrols, commandeering supplies, scattering in all directions, lathering, rinsing, and repeating until it was eventually conjured up that I was deemed "too important" to be risking my life alongside our fighters anymore, so with my brain and my mouth ultimately more useful than my person, I became the voice of a different, free Balmorra. The Balmorra I remembered growing up on. Sitting at a desk and planning would've been incredibly more boring if we hadn't had to pack up shop and relocate every few days, but ordering others to fight battles I myself was forbidden to participate in…it just didn't feel right.
And it also reminds me how old I'm getting, I confessed. At least this fancy new armor will make up for the fifty years I've been sacrificing my body in the name of the Republic.
A muffled explosion right outside the doors to the hangar brought my attention back to the present. I had no doubt in my mind as to the exact reason why they were here.
"Well, I may be old, but I most certainly am not invalid," I said to nobody in particular.
Deciding I could no longer be of use reminiscing to myself, I began checking my equipment, calibrating my rifle, encouraging the troops; anything to pass the time until the inevitable.
Senn and Bo had finished organizing the perimeter to the best of their abilities and had returned to the shuttle to send out a long-range communication when the hangar doors flew off their hinges and into the squad of troops that laid in wait.
…well, shit, I thought.
No doubt the Jedi had heard that as well. I walked over to the ramp and cut them off as they made their way out of the shuttle.
"Grand Marshal, I believe the Force was with us and us only: no other shuttles made it down in one piece. A squad of Hammerheads are overhead and are attempting to send support, but the Imperials got wind of the plan and intercepted them," the knight informed me. "We're effectively cut off, but we will make sure no harm comes to you here."
I shook my head. "Senn, Bo, you two are too valuable to lose in a battle this small. I need you two elsewhere," I explained quickly.
"The fleet may be lost, but my padawan and I can hold the Imperials until you regroup," Senn replied, adamant to hold his ground.
"No. You've got your ship, we've got a few of our own-I want you to get the noncombatants and the wounded off Balmorra…"
I sensed more than heard the lightsaber ignite behind me. I turned just in time to witness the last of my Elite Guard receiving several new scars on his armor that he wouldn't get the chance to appreciate. Well, I guess two blades can't do much against two armor-piercing blasters.
I quickly sized up the crew of Imperials in front of me. They were the same ones from the holocall earlier. The same crew that arrived on Balmorra a little over three days ago and, in that short period of time, managed to single-handedly undo all of the progress our resistance had made.
They stood in a rough semi-circle around us, the one who killed my Guard approaching last. No one I knew used two pistols except those who were actually skilled with its use (or overconfident enough to think they were skilled), and those not bound by regulations against using them, so this had to be a bounty hunter. Her jet-black hair extended to about shoulder length, and her gray eyes seemed to harbor storm clouds inside them, hiding a number of secrets I that I probably wouldn't like. Her armor was jungle-camouflaged and undoubtedly hid many unpleasant surprises, excluding a protruding jetpack, which I found odd, although the spikes on her boots were something I made a mental note to avoid. She had a pair of green Jaig eyes tattooed right above her eyebrows, so I knew this one was a true Mandalorian as well.
The one on her right seemed like a standard Imperial officer: medium stature, crisp gray uniform with a hat, shiny-if a little scuffed-up-black boots. You could almost say he was an officer, except for two things: one, the unreflective gray faceplate that stretched from the brim of his hat to the bottom of his chin, where it joined a frame that formed around his head and covered his face, as thought it was some sort of full-face helmet; and two, the rather large sniper rifle in his hands, which told me that this one was an agent from Imperial Intelligence. Good grief, am I really that important?
As if it wasn't bad enough already, there were two Sith present as well. And I mean pureblood Sith with red skin and everything, not some pretenders with red lightsabers and arrogant attitudes…well, at least the male was a pureblood.
He was standing to the left of the hunter and was about as tall as me, bald, and was wearing a black body suit with durasteel plates grafted onto it. His armor was all various shades of black and gray and he looked like a walking wall of hate; overall, if intimidating was the look he was going for, he achieved it. The luminescent red of his lightsaber actually matched the color of his eyes and his skin, and he wore silver rings on each of his four cheek tendrils. The fact that he looked like he could shrug off a grenade with nothing but his rage assured me that this one was definitely a Warrior.
The female on his left wielded a double-bladed lightsaber, but she had more of a lithe and agile physique, which probably was a deception in itself; while she could look unimposing, her skill with her weapon could dispatch her opponents faster than they could think otherwise. Deception is the main tool of an Assassin, I recalled. If she managed to disappear in battle and catch me in the back, I'm pretty sure the last thing I'd ever see would be her blade sticking right outta my chest. She wore a helmet that resembled a face with two slits for her eyes and silver tubes running horizontally from one edge of her face to the other, caging it in. Her purple robes had vertical patterns of glowing writing on it, most likely in some language I wouldn't be able to comprehend without my head imploding. Normally all heavy Force-users wear light robes as well, but judging by her skirt and her, erhm…physique, this was a female Sith.
A Sith Assassin and Warrior, an Imperial agent, and a bounty hunter…I'll bet I could walk Dromund Kaas all day and not see a crew like this anywhere, but cause enough trouble, and they'll pop up right in your face, I thought to myself.
Profiling these trained fighters in front of me took all of about three seconds, which was long enough for me to remember what I was saying.
"…after we handle this," I finished. I chose to address the bounty hunter. "You're damn tough, you know that?"
"How many years have you survived under siege? You've had a good run," she replied, putting slightly more emphasis on the last sentence.
Mandalorians always relish a good fight, I thought to myself. Might as well honor her and give her my last good one.
These warriors were sent here for me, and they're working for the Empire, so I estimated that I had about thirty seconds' worth of their attention before one of them, most likely the Warrior, decided to pounce me. Tapping my toe on the inside of my boot in a rehearsed sequence, I started the process of warming up my armor's heat sinks for a special surprise the Balmorrans had designed specifically for close-combat situations.
"It's not over yet. I've got Jedi at my back and the finest armor Balmorran Arms ever designed. Ignore the scratches," I bantered, trying to stall for time.
I could feel the friction from the heat sinks as they rose in temperature. The way this trick worked: you couldn't use your hands. Twenty seconds.
"We can cover your escape," Senn offered.
Out of all his traits, I admired Senn's sense of self-sacrifice the most. Jedi are taught to work for the greater good of the galaxy and the Force, and, if necessary, to lay down their lives for it. It was the one thing that tied us together: we were both willing to give our lives for the cause of freeing Balmorra.
The funny thing is, if we both give our lives today, no one will be left to give theirs tomorrow. We knew what we had to do, and there was no escaping it. Ten seconds.
"Nah. Let's see what an old man can do for his troops," I told him.
Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't fight, I reassured myself.
Against anyone else one-on-one, maybe, but these guys…I wasn't too sure.
Senn and his padawan ignited their lightsabers, two piercing blue rays of light facing the indomitable red of the Sith.
I started sweating from the heat buildup. Time slowed down and I began to see every little detail: the anxious twitches of the Warrior's fingers as he tightens and untightens his grip on his blade, the agent's Adam's Apple movement as he whispers voice commands to his HUD, the uncanny calm of the bounty hunter and the two Jedi behind me.
The Assassin's form started to shimmer as the Force wrapped around her and began to absorb her in shadow. I had to act now.
Focusing all my mind on my task, I spoke two words that went unheard to everyone except the minds of the two intended recipients, Senn and Bo.
GET DOWN! I mentally screamed at them.
Having full confidence in their ability to hit the floor, I jumped up spread eagle and, with great mental strain, channeled the Force to open all the heat sinks' vents on the front of my armor, effectively creating the kinetic force of a permacrete charge in the form of a heatwave emanating from my armor.
The ploy worked with varying degrees of success. All four of the Imps went flying backwards…well, the agent did, at least. The bounty hunter's reflexes were fast enough for her to roll with the impact, hitting the floor momentarily and bouncing right back up, blasters in hand. The two Sith, as expected, reacted with the speed that only a Force-user could, cushioning themselves against the blow and dispelling the wave around them, although they did slide backwards a good few meters.
The agent, thankfully, did not have any gadgets for this specific type of situation and ended up barreling into a stack of crates, pinning him until he recovered and set up shop with his sniper behind one of them.
Unfortunately, every reaction has an equal and opposite reaction.
That blast sent me hurtling backwards, so I did my best to stop it by opening the back vents and pushing backwards with the Force, although with less success: I had to do a backwards roll off my right shoulder, which did not feel good in the least bit, but I managed to land on my feet.
As I was in a crouch already, I rose to a hunched-over stance and began to type sequences into my wrist gauntlet, the first of which projected a reflective shield around myself, and just in time as well.
The bounty hunter had launched a rapid volley of shots at my torso that all seemed to hit within an inch of each other. They were absorbed by my shield, fortunately, so I decided to use my respite wisely and take stock of the situation.
Senn and Bo had got the message and hit the floor stomach-down, leaving them in a prone position while they shielded themselves from the backblast as I tried to counter my involuntary flight. They rose slightly, balancing on the tips of their boots and hands, like a predator getting ready to pounce.
As the Imps were recovering, the two Jedi launched themselves at the enemy with the speed of blaster bolts, Senn jumping at the Warrior and Bo at the agent, who was preoccupied pointing a sighting laser right between my eyes.
I'll be honest: if I saw anyone with a lightsaber literally flying at me, I'd probably panic, but I gotta give credit to the Warrior: he did not budge one bit.
He stood there, raised his lightsaber, and smiled, like a katarn baring its fangs at a prey. Senn hit with the force of a train, which would've sent anyone else flying, but that Warrior stood his ground and blue energy met red in a massive clash that sent the Sith skidding backward three meters with Senn rushing right after him.
The Warrior snarled a primal growl as he met the Knight's advance, stopping him dead in his tracks and locking blades in a match of strength. The Jedi's finesse was outmatched by the Sith's raw power, so he headbutted the Sith and sidestepped his wild retaliatory slash.
With a raw-throated yell, he actually channeled the Force into his voice and blasted Senn directly, throwing him backward into a wall with the Sith leaping after him.
Senn was able to roll to the side in time for the Warrior to crash into the wall, leaving a sizable man-shaped dent that he pushed himself out of in time to deflect the Jedi's strike and reply back with his own blow, and the elaborate dance that all blade-wielders perform began between the massive hulk of the Warrior and the graceful form of the Jedi Knight.
While Senn took on the most volatile threat in the room, Bo had opted for the one who seemed least likely to kill him without any effort: the agent.
The poor bastard barely had time to roll away before Bo flew at him, neatly flipping over his crate and slicing the air where he'd been a half-second before.
Unfortunately, that was when his Intelligence training kicked in. As soon as he recovered, he spun around and launched an electric dart at Bo. His quick reflexes saved him, but only by the hairs on his chin, literally: as he swayed to the left, the dart grazed his chin and set his ears ringing, giving the agent enough time to bring his rifle about and point it square at the padawan's chest.
With my shield still present around me, I let my attention fade away from everything else and focused my efforts on his sniper's cartridge.
Pop! The trigger clicked a millisecond after the ammunition was no longer present, giving Bo enough time to crumple the now-useless weapon with the Force and toss it aside.
The agent, still in fight mode, thought nothing of it and automatically drew his second set of weapons from his back: a vibroblade and a vibroknife.
If he's got the stones to fight with those against a Jedi, he must know what he's doing…damn, I thought to myself.
I would've shorted out the ultrasonic generator in one of his blades, but the fact that the Assassin just tried to stab me from behind brought my focus racing back.
My shield was meant to absorb energy from blaster bolts, so direct contact with a highly energized plasma field was more than enough to short it out. If it weren't for the cortosis woven into the plates of my armor, I would've been a soldier-kebab; instead, the blade short-circuited long enough for me to roll forward and loose a volley of profanity at my shoulder all in the same motion.
The Sith's moment of surprise as she observed her temporarily half-functioning lightsaber was long enough for me to spin around and fire a quick burst in her general direction. She was a Sith though, so she simply placed her hand in the way of the oncoming bolts and absorbed their energy as if it was as easy as breathing.
I knew I would not be able to match her without a blade of my own, so I decided to try a different tactic. I reached into my belt and lobbed a sonic grenade at her head, which made her sway to the right, avoiding it with almost...well, she was a Sith, so it was contemptuous ease.
What she was not expecting was for me to telekinetically pull the grenade's detonator as it passed right next her head.
Her helmet perfectly encased her head...except for two openings for her eyes. Unfortunately, due to the way she swayed, her upper body was squared precisely in the direction of the grenade, exposing those two openings to the high-frequency detonation.
Had she not tried to kill me, I almost would've felt sorry for her. That enclosed helmet acted as a perfect resonance chamber, allowing the sonic frequency to bounce around and cause havoc in the Assassin's head, shorting out her eardrums and giving her one hell of a headache. She fell to her knees on the ground trying to cover her ears, but ended up only covering the sides of her helmet, which actually forced a chuckle out of me.
Taking a lesson from past experience, I opted not to waste any time with a fancy finish and loosed a three-round burst at the incapacitated Sith. The first shot hit home, piercing through the robes over her chest and puncturing her heart, killing her instantly. The bounty hunter, who I had lost track of until now, fired a volley of shots at me, forcing me to roll to the side. My second shot went wide, grazing the side of her helmet and leaving a black scar as her lifeless body collapsed on the floor. I didn't bother to track where my third shot went as I went into my evasive maneuver.
I barely had time to recover before the bounty hunter literally flew into me, delivering a jet-propelled punch to my chest that sent me flying backwards a good ten meters and my rifle flying from my hands.
There was a big dent in my chestpiece now, not to mention the turbulent shifting of my guts and the broken ribs I could feel rattling about. I tried to push that pain to the back of my mind as I hoisted myself up on my elbows, which didn't yield any good results.
The bounty hunter had never touched the ground, rising near fifteen meters in the air and pointing her wrist gauntlets at me. As the first rocket left its magazine to rush down and meet me, I noticed that she was hovering with the aid of rocket boosters in her boots.
So that's why she doesn't have a jetpack, I thought as I reclaimed my eight-foot stature and hauled it away as fast as possible.
The rockets were high-explosive, so no matter how fast I sprinted, the trailing conflagration's shockwaves kept catching up to me. Each rocket projected enough force to propel me forward a little, causing my feet to overcompensate as I tried to counter the unexpected bursts of speed and dodge shrapnel at the same time. I eventually lost my balance by the fifth one as the shockwave hit me square in the back. My leg collapsed under me and I was shoved into a haphazard tumble that sent me into the console I was using earlier to talk to them. I hit the console across my back with a loud clang that got me seeing stars.
Deciding that now was the time for desperate measures, I reached into my utility belt and pulled out an adrenal stim the size of my thumb.
Less is always more, I mused as I jabbed it into my leg.
The effects were immediate: my heart began racing, the pain in my chest and shoulder faded to the edges of my consciousness, and my eyes popped open, eager to analyze anything and everything that was in front of me.
Everything snapped into clarity as I grasped for any information about my surroundings. I forced myself to focus: where is the bounty hunter?
She landed in front of the shuttle ramp and drew her pistols, preparing to finish me off.
I decided it was time to return the favor to her.
I sprung up from my injured posture and tapped a sequence of buttons on my wrist gauntlet, activating the boosters I possessed in my own boots. With the aid of my mind, which was about to race right out of my head, I assessed the trajectory I would need to intercept her at twenty-eight meters away and kept that readily available.
I popped out the wrist blaster in my left gauntlet and fired a rushed stream of bolts at her upper body. She rolled forward under the volley, which most warriors would not expect, but I had planned on it. As soon as the last bolt was in the air, I ignited my thrusters and went flying at her, ready to return the blow she had landed on me earlier.
Everything else was lost in the fiery trail behind me as I focused on the bounty hunter in front of me. She was just rising up as I was five meters away and coming fast. I cocked my right fist and extended the vibroblade stored in my knuckle-plate. There was no way she could avoid this.
I have never been more wrong in my entire life.
With almost superhuman reflexes, she activated her rocket boots and boosted herself to my left, avoiding my strike entirely.
She raised her pistols and shot once, twice, three times into my back.
My rockets were no longer propelling me, but my forward momentum was still present and those three shots buffeted me into a faceplant on the cold metal of the hangar floor, landing me in front of the shuttle ramp.
I could feel a weird sensation in the lower left of my chest. As the adrenaline began to die down, I realized those shots had punctured my armor and gone through the bottom of my left lung, leaving a gaping hole. I began to wonder why she had not simply finished me off.
I struggled to heave myself up on my hands and knees as it became harder to breathe without losing breath. Unfortunately, my curiosity was rewarded when I managed to raise my head.
While I was engaged with the Assassin and the bounty hunter, Senn and the Warrior had been fighting all over the hangar, each trying to find a hole in his opponent's defenses as they parried, slashed, and telekinetically threw things at each other. Senn's finesse with the weapon allowed him to dodge and deflect most of the Warrior's rage-driven attacks, leading him to score several glancing blows and cuts on the massive Sith, who used the pain to fuel his anger and continue driving Senn back.
Unfortunately, finesse can only outmatch brute strength for so long before withering under the attrition. Senn swayed and smacked the Warrior in the chin with his hilt, causing him to reel backward. The Sith spit out a thick globule of blood as Senn turned to face him, his lightsaber held in front of him in a defensive position across his body.
The Warrior Force-shouted once more, buffeting the Jedi with Force-enhanced sonic waves. Senn was ready this time, presenting his blade to the soundwave and deflecting it around him.
The Sith had planned for this though, launching himself at the Jedi as he was deflecting the last of the shout. Red energy met blue again, breeding a massive explosion of force that sent Senn flying this time.
He had no time to recover as he hit the wall. Empowered by his rage, the Sith threw his lightsaber at Senn and guided it with the Force. Senn raised his own blade in time to have it battered away by the cyclone of red energy, missing his chest by centimeters as it began to return to its master.
Fatigued and deprived of his weapon, Senn knew his end had reached him. He raised himself to a sitting posture, crossed his legs, laid his hands palms-up on them, and closed his eyes.
The Warrior's lightsaber returned to him as he entered a leap, inverting his lightsaber so the point was straight down. The last thing I saw before I turned away was the triumphant smile he wore on his face as he bore down on my comrade.
An explosion of pure light lit up the room as the Warrior's lightsaber made contact with the Jedi, sending him flying and causing everyone to avert their eyes in shock. I could feel the tangible release of pure energy radiate through my skin and course through my veins. Senn had opened himself up to the Force in his last moment, allowing it to flow through him in its purest form.
I decided not to waste the opportunity he created and grabbed the sidearm I always kept strapped to my right thigh, straightening up to a kneel and aiming at the closest target I could find: the bounty hunter.
As soon as my finger tensed on the trigger, a shot rang out. I didn't have time to comprehend where it came from before my pistol was torn from my hand and sent across the room.
I attempted to bring my wrist blaster up, but an invisible force struck me in the chest, landing me flat on my back. I felt it come down sharply on my wrist, effectively pinning my arm to the floor. Forgoing tact, I did the only thing I could do in that situation: I threw a wild haymaker with my right at the air above my left arm.
My fist smacked into something fleshy, which did not surprise me. I was rewarded by the release of the pressure on my arm and a muffled oomph! as I watched the air shimmer in front of me, the Agent was forced out of his active camouflage. The strike sent him staggering backwards, limping on his left leg. I should've take the opportunity to tackle him, but only one thought registered in my mind at that point: Where's Bo?
The sniper trained his rifle on my head as I glanced to my right. I swore I could see that damn agent smirking wolfishly right through his faceplate. Right by the crates, pinned in an upright sitting position to one of them by a large vibroknife through his abdomen was the lifeless figure of Bo Savaat, his hood covering his eyes and a snarl of distaste frozen on his face.
Those brave warriors willingly followed me here, and I failed to protect them, I thought sullenly. They gave their lives trying to protect me and the cause I served. The least I can do for them is save the others so we can live to fight another day.
By the time I bore witness to Bo, the remaining Sith and bounty hunter recovered from Senn's sacrifice and had gathered once again in a semi-circle around me, their weapons drawn and eager to be utilized.
My closest comrades had just been killed and here I was, the leader of the resistance, about to be executed by the warriors who nullified our years-long struggle in a matter of days. The only thing I was certain of at this point was that I was next on the headsman's block.
Slowly but surely, I brought myself up from the floor, barely managing to not collapse from the pain. I lost about a foot in height as I hunched over, clutching my left side with my right arm in a vain effort to stop the pain coming from the empty space in my chest.
The bounty hunter noticed this, and, to my great surprise, brought a kolto injector out from her utility belt, strode to where I was standing, and stabbed it into the injury she had caused me. I winced as I felt the gelatinous salve begin to take effect, forming a temporary seal over the punctures and preventing infection from taking root. I gave the bounty hunter a grateful nod as I addressed her.
"Good fight. You've got…well, you've got something I don't have anymore," I confessed to the bounty hunter.
The Warrior began to say something, but was cut off.
"It's not too late to stop more killing," she said, surprising me and everyone else in the room.
I allowed a grin to spread on my weathered face as a worm of hope found its way inside me.
My god, I might actually get through this.
"I'm glad to hear you say tha-"
A phantom worked its way down my throat and bore down on my trachea, causing me to choke. I felt myself rising off the ground. I could only watch helplessly as the Warrior raised his hand higher, my body mimicking the motion. As he began to gradually ball his hand into a fist, the pressure on my windpipe increased, closing it more and more until I was unable to breathe at all. My eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head, and spots started to dance across my vision. I could feel my face losing coloration as the Warrior spoke.
"This has gone on long enough," the Sith stated plainly.
He raised his lightsaber as he prepared for the killing thrust.
As if triggered by the sight of that lightsaber prepared to plunge through me, a torrent of memories filled my vision, intertwining itself with reality and making it almost impossible to grasp onto the present. I saw images of my parents, my first day of training, my friends, the many fights I'd participated in throughout my seventy-three years in this galaxy.
Instead of seeing a light or finding inner peace, my life was flashing before my eyes, taking me through my journey from Balmorra to Balmorra once more.
Well, I guess this is what happens to us ordinary people when we bite it, I thought to myself.
The world froze as I was absorbed into the current, washed away in a sea of my own experiences.
The last thing I bore witness to in the present was the eyes of the Sith: merciless, unrelenting, and faintly gleaming with that triumphant smile once more.
0900 Hours, Primeday, 53rd Week, 48 BTC
Fort Garnik, Ord Mantell
Well, this is going to be different.
As we dropped in from orbit, I couldn't help but notice the utter nothingness that was covering the planet.
Except for the dull gray of the fort's infrastructure, the surrounding area was covered with verdant green hills and the tans, reds, greens, and other colors of all squared-off farmlands. The fort was situated on a hill with a shallow incline, which gave it the tactical advantage of height over the violent hordes of farmers that were no doubt going to attack from all sides. There were two towns within speeder distance of Fort Garnik, I think their names are Drelliad and Talloran Village. They didn't seem very different from each other; there was no hustle-and-bustle, everyone was relaxed and going about their own business.
In fact, the only active thing worth noting in the entire area was the generator situated on the ridge northwest of the fort. It was built into the hillside, surrounded by rocky outcrops and seemed to be perpetually steaming from one end, much to the dismay of the engineer crew that was working on it.
There was a large gully illuminated with the charred glow of lava a short distance down the hill from the generator, which I found odd, but I didn't have much time to mull it over.
The pilot of the NR2 shuttle that ferried us from the Hammerhead in orbit was due to make another run for the rest of our platoon, so as soon as we hit the landing platform, we were shooed out the ramp rather unceremoniously and off he went back into the clear Mantellian sky.
There were twenty soldiers in that shuttle, divided into two squads of ten. I was in the second squad of our platoon; well, to be formal, I was a sergeant in 2nd Squad, 1st Platoon, Blade Company, 6th Force Ops Corps, 1st Unconventional Warfare Brigade.
To clarify, the 6th FOC wasn't a giant corps like the ones in Sector Armies. We were usually the first ones in and last ones out though, so we thought we deserved to name ourselves as we saw fit. And yes, I realize I haven't taken part in a single battle yet, but I'm a part of the unit, so I'm allowed take pride in its group individuality.
I was originally intended to land in the regular infantry troops, but during my training at The Founders' Academy on Coruscant, a particular hostage situation exercise in my second year got me special attention from the higher-ups.
The hostage taker barricaded himself in the next room with three other goons with blasters, and the only way in or out was a door and a mail slot wide enough to fit a datapad through. Seeing as negotiations were going nowhere in our favor, I began to give into their demands, eventually promising them the credits they wanted while sounding less and less sure of myself all the while. I took out my personal datapad and borrowed a sonic grenade from the ordinance specialist, disassembled the grenade, and planted the high-frequency emitter and the detonation switch in the pad, remotely syncing it up with a borrowed detonator. Although she was sweating her ass off because of the explosive equipment inside it, our slicer managed to forge a message on the pad saying that their credits were wired and all they needed to do was claim them. The datapad and all its hidden surprises were then slipped through the mail slot and into the hands of the hostage takers. As soon as it was through, I hit the button, incapacitating the aggressors while my team stormed in and took down the aggressors, ending the exercise with flying colors.
Due to that, I was put through a series of screening tests and, after passing with highly satisfactory results, the higher-ups offered me the chance to undergo advanced training away from The Founders' Academy. Normally, one would have to spend quite a while fighting as a regular grunt before being considered for special forces, but the Republic had embraced a new philosophy in the past decade to pick out recruits with "extraordinary potential" and basically breed them for specialized roles right off the bat. The program started due to suspicions of another invasion sometime soon; by whom, I did not know, but I didn't feel like complaining about my good fortune just yet. I gladly accepted their offer, and my training began a second time as I was shipped out to the forest moon of Dxun.
Quite opposite to the inhabited planet of Onderon that it orbited, Dxun was covered with trees and all sorts of nasty surprises. Let your attention drift, and you could walk right into a tree or a hungry predator. Get lucky, and you might encounter a Mandalorian weapons cache filled with loot; get really lucky, and you might be able to disarm the traps and claim what you earned by surviving the ordeal.
Special Forces Command chose Dxun specifically for the hostile environment that we'd probably encounter in the future, so performed our field exercises in the forest. They ranged from long-range reconnaissance to guerrilla tactics to deep-cover ops and usually lasted around a week or two each, excluding some of the excruciatingly longer ops. An "enemy" camp was usually set up somewhere in the jungle, and our task would inevitably be to infiltrate the camp, acquire or eliminate the target, and either sneak or fight our way out back to Operations Headquarters, which had been established in a hidden Mandalorian outpost abandoned some three hundred years ago. Those who weren't on exercises didn't get the chance to lounge around at HQ, much to their disappointment: professors and officers from the Onderon Royal Military Academy were shuttled from the planet to our humble camp, teaching us the basics of what every guerrilla fighter might need. We had to learn Geography, Human and Alien Anthropology and Biology, Strategy, History, Universal Species Psychology (my favorite); any knowledge that might come in handy for even the tiniest situation, we learned.
By the time I graduated, I was more or less fluent in Huttese and Twi'leki, and knowledgeable enough to pose as a Hutt's hired goon, raid the pantry, and sneak, incapacitate, or smooth-talk my way past the guards until I could disappear into the surrounding area with the barely edible (and mostly disgusting) spoils.
After five total years of training, I finally got transferred to a formal military unit and sent to an active base, which happened to be on quaint, little Ord Mantell. At only twenty-three years of age, I was fully qualified for special operations; unusual, maybe, but I was trained by the best and eager to see action with my comrades, which I knew would come soon enough. The 1st Unconventional Warfare Brigade is responsible for initial infiltration of a planet, deep cover and infiltration ops, guerrilla warfare, and at times, winning the hearts and minds of the people-basically infiltration and civilian relations. The 6th Force Ops Battalion is a combination of force recon and special ops, which means we're basically a ringer: throw us in anywhere, and we'll get results. The 6th is responsible for being the first ones in of the entire brigade, as well. Once inserted, we were tasked with determining enemy force composition, scouting and taking out targets of opportunity, and holding a secure position long enough for additional forces or extraction to arrive. Blade Company was more oriented to the special ops side of things though, which was why I tried my damnedest to land in this company. While Drexl and Sentinel Companies formed the vanguard of the invasion, Blade was behind enemy lines, making the first precision strikes to cripple the enemy before the regular boots even touched the ground. So more often than not, we would be the first ones in, last ones out, and occasionally, the last ones back in, depending on who or what got left behind.
The rest of my career in this brigade would not be easy, I knew this for sure. But somehow…that seemed like a good thing to me. Knowing I'd be doing everything conventional forces couldn't do gave me the impression that we could make the crucial difference during a battle; that we could actually make a difference.
I joined up partly out of family tradition, but one year on his furlough, my dad decided take us on a pilgrimage of sorts to Cathar…nothing has affected me more in this entire galaxy than the sight of the war-ravaged families trying to rebuild their lives after the Mandalorians' devastation of their planet. They had made remarkable progress over the years, rebuilding one city-tree to its former glory with colorful tents lining the boughs and fresh holes carved into the main trunk, housing many of the feline natives and providing sanctuary from the elements and hostile predators.
Aside from that area, the forested greens and browns sharply contrasted with the charred blacks and ashen grays of the barrens encompassing the vast majority of the planet. The valiant Cathar who dared to venture back to their planet found a cratered and abandoned in smoking ruin, the plains and trees that ran rampant across the planet reduced to barren, charred wastelands. Occasional outcrops of vegetation were left unscathed, miraculously, which the survivors quickly utilized to rebuild their civilization. Others were not so lucky, forced to make shelter on the barrens and survive on what little natural flora and fauna they could find.
Honestly, I don't think I've seen real courage anywhere else than in those few who re-colonized their devastated homeworld. We did what we could to help out: hunted, foraged, built, carved, danced, sang, learned. Duty called my father back after three weeks via a shuttle dispatched from Coruscant, so it was time to leave whether we wanted to go or not. The shuttle dropped us off at home on Balmorra for a quick farewell, then my father departed back to the city-planet while my mother and I watched and waved good-bye from the shuttle pad.
The resounding clank of the returned shuttle's landing skids on the landing pad brought me back to the present. The rest of our platoon was here, which meant that-
"A-hem."
As fast as we could manage, all forty of us present assembled into two ranks at the foot of the fort's warehouse in front of the man who had commanded our attention so effortlessly.
The staff sergeant stood in front of us and paused to observe the motley band of soldiers in front of him. He was a middle-aged human with brown hair with token gray streaks just barely visible, and it was cut in the standard buzzed wedge of all soldiers. He was about six foot, making him about a foot shorter than me, and he was stockily built; you could pretty much see his muscles threatening to tear his standard-issue orange fatigue shirt. He was wearing a pair of military sunglasses, obstructing us from seeing his eyes and reflecting everything they saw back at us. He was showing signs of wrinkles and had a slightly misaligned nose, but other than that, he looked like a regular staff sergeant in the army. From their hidden vantage point behind those reflective barriers, his eyes seemed to look at nothing and everything at once, although we were all simultaneously sure that he was staring at each of us.
We stood stock-still, staring straight ahead for what seemed like an eternity until he decided to address us after finishing his rigorous mental analysis…or possibly just staring into space.
"Good morning, soldiers. My name is Staff Sergeant Jerrels, and for the next few months, I will be your commanding officer here at this lovely fort," he informed us in a soft voice that carried no less weight than if he would've yelled. "From this point on, you will forget anything that happened before you stepped off that shuttle. That is irrelevant. What is relevant is that you are here, which means you will be undergoing the final stages of training before you get sent off to wherever the hell Command decides to send you. If anyone has any qualms or doubts about wanting to be here, you may speak up now. If any one of you feels that you belong in another unit, you have my full permission to step right back on that shuttle and transfer somewhere else. I will sign the transfer request personally."
Not one person stepped back. I felt a fierce surge of pride well up in my chest.
"As expected," the staff sergeant stated. Whether it was to us or to himself, I couldn't tell. "I will not have anyone in this unit who thinks they were forced to be here. I will not lie: you will be doing the majority of the work out of the entire armed forces. You will enter first. You will leave last. You will perform everything from frontline support to infiltration and everything in between, and when all other boots have left the ground, you will remain behind to ensure that the trouble zone is either stabilized or neutralized.
You will be the precision instrument that severs the vital components of the enemy's machine. You will be the deciding factor of many unseen and possibly never heard-of struggles. You are now Blade Company, 6th Force Ops Corps, 1st Unconventional Warfare Brigade. Ubi vero non audet, nos impetramus."
"Where others never dare, we prevail!" forty mouths shouted in unison. Once we were informed as to what unit we were assigned to, the instructors never stopped drilling that ancient Thyrsian creed into our head. Only now did we realize how much significance it held: standing side-by-side with our future comrades in arms, shouting that we could and would make the impossible happen, no matter the odds.
The staff sergeant allowed a proud grin to slip through his stoic outer guise. He savored the moment before continuing.
"I see forty of you here, but unfortunately, I'm no psychic, which means I do not know any of you," he said bluntly. He pulled a datapad out from his belt and began calling out names as he read the company's roster, the corresponding soldier answering, "Here, sir!" at the top of their lungs, as was standard procedure. I drifted off into my thoughts as the roll call went, confident in my ability to identify my own name.
I realized I had been gone quite a while before Staff Sergeant Jerrels addressed us as a whole again. I was only able to catch the back half of what he was saying, unfortunately.
"…fourth squad, your bunks are in the last building on the right, behind the cantina," he finished. "Lunch is at 1200 hours. You will have thirty minutes to eat, and then you will report back here and form up until I arrive. Blade Company, dismissed!"
We all saluted the staff sergeant, he reciprocated, and we went out to our respective cabins. I began searching for Corporal Barnes before I received a tap on the shoulder that made me turn around to the reflective view of my own face.
"How was that daydream, son?" the staff sergeant inquired innocently.
"It was, uh…I'm sorry, sir," I replied, the shame clearly written on my face.
Staff Sergeant Jerrels furrowed his brow for a second, then his expression seemed to lighten a bit.
"Always pay attention, sergeant," he told me. "You never know when you might miss something important, like me not calling your name."
That got my attention.
"You didn't call my name?" I asked out of reflex.
The staff sergeant raised one eyebrow, as though I was forgetting someth-
"You didn't call my name, sir?" I corrected hastily.
"That's correct, sergeant," he replied, satisfied with my addendum. "I didn't call your name because I specifically planned for this to happen."
"You planned for me to blunder around and try to find my way to my bunk?" I asked, not understanding his reasoning.
"I planned to get the opportunity to speak to you alone without calling you out in front of the entire company," he explained. "Charismatic, skilled, possessing the 'ability to achieve successful ends via unorthodox means,' second highest in your class-seemingly by your own doing, judging by your instructors' comments."
The surprise peeked its way on my face. No one recognized that I let Sol Ramas pass me up to get to first. I only did it because his parents threatened to send him back to the reef mines on Chagria if he did not come out on top of his class. Now that he had no threat of perpetual toil looming over his head, he began to lose his necessary competitiveness and became more personable, eager to make up for lost time.
"You could've been the top of your class, but you made the necessary sacrifice to allow Sergeant Ramas to stay in our unit. You seem to be a humble individual and a born leader, Cheketta. I expect great things from you, whether you mean to do them or not," he said prophetically.
As he said that, a tingle went down my spine and set my veins coursing with a faintly tangible energy, as though something inside me had been awakened. Everything seemed to feel more...alive, all of a sudden.
The staff sergeant patted me on the shoulder and turned his attention back to his datapad, leaving me standing with a cryptic statement about my future and still no clue as to where my bunk was.
"Hey, wampa! Get your giant ass over here before I drag it here myself!"
I blundered around, trying to find the source of that voice. Normally, one would think someone just insulted me, but since I was the biggest person in Blade Company, I had gotten used to the nickname.
"Structure to the left of the Command building," I heard the staff sergeant whisper.
"Much obliged, sir," I replied as I headed off in that direction, unsure if he was being cryptic about that too.
"Barnes, there better be a top bunk left for me!" I hollered at the building.
"You'll just have to come here and find out!" the voice replied.
Sighing inwardly to myself, I began to jog towards the building, unsure of whether I was going to get the coveted perch above my peers or get stuck at floor level. Honestly, it wasn't too bad, but I liked having a view.
As the shuttle lifted off to rejoin its mothership above the clear blue sky, I allowed a smirk to spread across my face.
No turning back now, Cheketta. Here goes nothing.
Dear reader(s),
Ey folks, how are ya? Normally I'm not too much of a sit-down-for-hours-on-end-and-write type of person, but when I first came across Grand Marshal Cheketta in-game, I couldn't resist. He was a man with a benevolent cause and no backstory, so I saw an opportunity for a foray into fanfiction and jumped right on in. I'm trying to stay as close to canon as possible, but when you start in the year 3707 BBY, there isn't anything very specific to latch onto, so forgive me if I get something botched up. I'm planning to write this as a firsthand account of his life, running through it once again from his perspective as he goes from his birth world of Balmorra and ends up back there once more near the end of his days. So he won't be in the future looking back; he'll be there again. Hopefully all goes well; two more things before I'm done yammering, though.
One: I'm going by the Galactic Standard Calendar, which is based on the cycles of Coruscant. It defines the five days of the week as Primeday, Centaxday, Taungsday, Zhellday, and Benduday. There are 5 days in a week and 7 weeks in a month. In a standard year, there are 10 months (70 weeks), 3 holiday weeks, and 3 holidays (3 days). This amounts to a total of 73 weeks and 3 holidays, which is how I will measure the time. Years are also measured by major events in history, so for ease of understanding, I'll be going by BTC and ATC, which stand for Before and After the Treaty of Coruscant, respectively.
Two: Since this is Star Wars, I can't use too many Earth animal comparisons because...well, there is no Earth. Therefore, I'll be using the ones I know (and some I might have to look up). Katarns are predators; furry, horned, and ferocious, so I'd equate it to a wolf. Kowakian monkey-lizards are Salacious Crumb's species (the little hairy thing sitting on Jabba's stomach that guffaws every time he says something), so I'm assuming they're small, annoying, and able to climb trees. Wampas...well, they're wampas. Big, furry abominable snowmen that eat you for dinner. You should know what they are. Most of the stuff I reference should have an entry in Wookieepedia (.); if not, then I'm free-styling, so beware!
Well, that's pretty much it. Schoolwork is pretty heavy, but I'll try to get a new chapter out every month; this one took me three weeks because I'm a perfectionist, so I kept tweaking things over and over and over. I'll work on that.
- Boofus