A/N: Dear Readers,
Thanks for the support so far. Be forewarned; tinkering with the ending of "Revenge of the Sith" like I have so far leaves a lot of loose ends to be tied up, so I'll probably be dinking around in the SW universe for the next few chapters. To answer some questions, yes the Covenant Separatists will feature somewhat, but that's all I'm going to reveal so far. First contact will take place after the Human-Covenant War, as otherwise the UNSC would be so weak it'd really be a pointless story. As for Padmé, well, you'll have to read to find out!
Jedi templeCoruscant
"…and so Anakin and I were forced to return to the temple," Mace finished. He was standing in the Council room of the Jedi temple, where an emergency meeting of the Council had been called. Because of the demand the Clone Wars had placed on the Order, over half of the Masters on the Council were attending via hologram.
There was a heavy silence that hung in the room as the Masters considered the matter. Finally, Master Yoda spoke. "Grievous news, this is," the wizened old Jedi said, shaking his head sadly. "That we have been fooled so completely, blind we were."
"With all due respect, Master Yoda," Mace said gently. "This is not the time to discuss our mistakes. Even now, Sidious doubtlessly has troops closing on the temple. Every minute we debate is a minute closer to our elimination. We need to evacuate the Jedi from wherever we can before Sidious issues Order 66."
This drew confused looks from the Jedi. "And what is this order you speak of?" asked Master Ki-Adi-Mundi.
Mace took a deep breath. "Sidious mentioned it as I was dueling with him. It is the order for all of the clones across the galaxy to kill their Jedi generals. Needless to say, we cannot trust the clones in this venture."
This latest statement was met with mutters of shock and anger among the Council members, many of those attending in the field sending nervous glances over their shoulders.
"If this is true," said Master Shaak Ti, "how can we evacuate? The clones are in control of the entire fleet."
"Not all of it," said Master Kenobi, casting a glance at Mace. "I know a few ships that are still loyal to the Jedi. Admiral Yularen and his task force have served me well in the past. We may be able to convince them to help."
"Then settled it is," Yoda said decisively, wrapping his claws around the knobby head of his cane. "Evacuate, we must, before Sidious strikes. Masters Windu and Ti," he said, pointing his wrinkled hands at the two Jedi. "Organize the temple's defenses. Hold off the clones until we can escape, you must. Master Kenobi, contact Admiral Yularen, you will." Yoda looked around at the remaining Jedi. "Those deployed, abandon your troops, you must. Escape and rendezvous with us at Cantam, you will. Contact all Jedi you know and tell them, you must."
As one, the Jedi dipped their heads. "It will be done, Master."
With that, the Council disbanded. Master Ti crossed the distance to Windu with swift, gliding steps. "Master Windu," the Togrutan said with a dip of her head. "It shall be an honor to work with you."
"Likewise," Mace said. Outside the Council chamber, a clamor became audible as the news was broadcast throughout the temple and Jedi began rushing everywhere.
Suddenly Shaak frowned, looking around. "Where is Anakin?" she asked.
Mace sighed. "He's…being Anakin."
If Anakin had been flying fast before, he was screaming now. He was literally pinned to the seat by g-forces as he shoved the throttle full open, accelerating at speeds so high it felt like he was podracing again.
He was on a rescue mission, but this time he wasn't going after his former Master or Padawan, or even after a lovable little droid that always seemed to get captured when he was carrying important information. No, this time it was much more personal. He needed to get to Padmé before Sidious did. Now that the Sith Lord knew of Anakin's involvement with the Senator from Naboo, he would doubtlessly try to capture her as a powerful bargaining chip.
Anakin couldn't allow that to happen. He didn't care that the rest of the Order would probably find out he had gone against the code and married the Senator; at this point, he felt obeying the code was moot. The whole Order was about to be wiped out. If he could save Padmé and the twins she was carrying, he would gladly be expelled from the Order.
Perhaps it was this desperation that fueled his mind, but he made it to the Senator's dwelling quarters in record time. He parked the speeder on the pad and sprinted to the door, tapping in the code that he knew by heart. The doors split apart and opened, revealing the home of the Senator from Naboo.
Anakin wasted no time in stepping inside, his eyes searching the room for his wife.
There she was, the figure he knew so well was leaning over a desk, studying some sort of document. She looked up, surprise evident on her fair features.
"Anakin?" she asked slowly. "What are you doing here?"
Anakin's heart ached at the sound of her beautiful voice, and he crossed the space between them in a matter of seconds. "We have to go," he whispered urgently. "The Chancellor is a Sith Lord! He has betrayed the Republic and the Jedi, and it is only a matter of time before he comes after you."
Padmé took a step back, shock playing out across her face. "Is this some sort of joke, Ani?" she asked. "If it is,-"
"It's not a joke," Anakin snapped, a little more forcibly than he intended. "Palpatine killed Masters Tiin, Koth, and Fisto, and he almost killed me and Mace as well."
Padmé blinked rapidly, refusing to believe what she was hearing. Anakin couldn't blame her; he had been in the same ship until a few hours ago. "It cannot be," she whispered quietly, visibly shaken.
"It is," Anakin hissed. Seeing she was still unconvinced, Anakin sighed. "Blast it, Padmé, would I lie to you? We have to leave right-"
Anakin never finished his sentence. A sudden din on the other side of the door of Padmé's apartment indicated they had company.
Anakin cast back his Jedi robe and swept out his lightsaber, igniting it. With a snap-hiss, a brilliant blue-white blade sprang into existence, illuminating the room and humming as he tossed it from hand to hand and brought it up into a ready stance. "Get behind me," he ordered as the door began to heat. Padmé did so unhesitatingly, diving behind her husband as the door exploded inwards and a squad of clone troopers poured into the room. They saw Anakin and opened up.
The Jedi Knight spun his lightsaber furiously, battling away the bolts of energy and deflecting them into the walls. "Get to the speeder!" he yelled to Padmé, his brow furrowing in concentration as the clones spread out to get better angles of fire on him. He gritted his teeth as he widened his stance, deflecting a pair of bolts back into the torsos of a pair of his assailants. The two clones collapsed, fingers twitching spasmodically with charred holes in their armor.
"Now!" Anakin yelled, sidestepping and decapitating a clone who was rushing him with a vibroblade. Without needing further encouragement, Padmé sprinted away towards the speeder, Anakin followed, slowly giving ground to the flurry of lasers directed at him by the clones. It was odd fighting troops he had fought alongside for so long. He would much rather fight droids, he decided as he ran through another clone with his lightsaber and pulled it out just in time to deflect a shot to his face. These clones actually aimed their shots instead of just firing in the general direction of their targets like most droids.
A quick glance confirmed Padmé had made it to the speeder, and Anakin sliced through another clone before deactivating his lightsaber and turning to run.
He had almost made it out onto the landing platform when his boot snagged on a rug and sent him sprawling face-first. Before he could recover, an armored boot was jammed into the small of his back, causing him to gasp as the boot's owner roughly rolled the Jedi over. Anakin blinked and opened his eyes to see a clone with a sergeant's marking standing over him with a nasty-looking DC-15 blaster rifle leveled at the Jedi's face.
Anakin closed his eyes, but instead of the loud blast of a DC-15 discharging, there was a quieter blast. Confused, Anakin opened his eyes to see a charred hole in the clone's normally impeccable white armor. The DC-15 fell form the clone's lifeless fingers and the clone crumpled, replaced instead by the lovely form of Anakin's wife, holding a still-smoking blaster pistol.
"I love you," Anakin murmured as he took Padmé's hand.
"I know," Padmé said, smiling and giving him a quick kiss. "Now come on," she said, turning to jump back in the speeder. Anakin followed as the tramp of armored boots grew louder in the background, indicating more clone reinforcements. Anakin turned, reaching out with the Force and pushing at the troopers as they poured into the room. The white-armored men went down in a tangled pile of limbs, helmets, and rifles, and Anakin seized the opportunity to return to jump into the speeder.
"So what exactly is going on?" Padmé asked as Anakin sped away from the apartment.
"Everything has changed," Anakin said grimly.
GNR Resolute
Low orbit, Coruscant
The space above Coruscant was a magnificent demonstration of Republic might. Filled with ships, the system was heavily defended by hundreds of remote listening posts, orbital space stations, and an entire fleet of ships ranging from frigates to Dreadnoughts to Venator-class Star Destroyers and more.
In low orbit, one of those Venators glided through a debris belt-the result of the recent CIS raid on Coruscant-gently pushing aside the spinning chunks of wreckage as they impacted on its shields. At first glance, the Star Destroyer appeared to be just like the thousands of other such ships in the Grand Navy of the Republic, another cog in the machine, if you will. Sure, it was a formidable ship, with its turbolaser banks and proton torpedo tubes, but it was nothing special. Its once grand and ornate hull was pitted and pockmarked with the scars of countless battles, and the paint was coming off in strips.
It was, however, unique among its brethren in that it, along with its task force of two other Venators and three Acclamator-class assault ships, were the only ships in the Republic Navy to not be under direct command of Palpatine. Instead, they were assigned to the transportation and assistance of Jedi.
Its name was the Resolute, and it was under the command of Admiral Wulf Yularen.
On the bridge of the Resolute, Yularen was tired. His task force had just returned to Coruscant after an exhausting twelve-day campaign to retake Bothawui and it finally looked like they were going to get a little R&R.
Yularen swept his gaze around the bridge of his ship, nodding approvingly at what he saw. Everything was neat and tidy, just the way it ought to be. That was the good thing about clones; their unquestioning obedience of orders and a willingness to work tirelessly. His bridge crew was an experienced one; Sigma at Communications, Terron at Weapons, Fermion at Sensors, Hal at Operations, and Epsilon at Navigation. He had worked with them for months, and knew their capabilities.
Yularen stood, leaving his command chair and going to stand at the massive transparisteel window that dominated the bridge view. The glittering ball of Coruscant hung below, glowing with the fires of a thousand cities all over its surface. Every time Yularen visited the massive capital, he was humbled by its size, but after the recent CIS raid, it seemed somehow different. Fragile. He turned his gaze to the belts of wreckage floating in orbit as they were herded together by tenders, chagrined to see that many of pieces of debris were from Republic ships. The recent battle had claimed the lives of many good men, and shattered Coruscant's air of invincibility.
All the more reason to end this war soon.
"Helm," he said, "set a course for low orbit, Docking Station 32-Bravo."
"Understood, sir," Epsilon said, turning to his console.
Yularen folded his hands behind his back as the ship moved forwards. Just an hour, he thought to himself. If I could have just one hour uninterup-
"Sir!" Sigma suddenly said, shattering Yularen's wishful illusions. "Communication for you, Priority Alpha!"
Yularen frowned. Alpha priority messages were, as their name denoted, messages of the utmost importance. What could possibly be happening in the aftermath of the battle that required such a tag?
"Source?" he queried.
"It's coming from the Jedi Temple. Sir." Sigma said, and Yularen could have sworn he heard the clone swallow. Yularen felt dread begin to rise in his stomach, slowly gathering and coalescing as it threatened to choke out his mind. "Put him through," he gasped, going to stand near the large holotable in the center of the bridge.
Sigma rattled away at his console for a moment, and then the holoprojector came sputtering to life, spitting up an image of a brown-haired Jedi General. One that Yularen knew very well.
"General Kenobi," he began, "what a pleasure to see you aga-"
General Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master and hero of the Republic, cut the admiral off with an urgent hand gesture. "Never mind that," he said, his normally calm voice strained. "We haven't the time."
Yularen frowned, the vice in his guts clenching tighter. "What's going o-?" he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off again.
"Many, many things," he said, his voice urgent. "Suffice to say, the unthinkable has happened. Chancellor Palpatine is a traitor and a Sith Lord. He has betrayed the Republic and the Jedi, and it is not long before a purge begins."
Yularen blinked in shock as his brain attempted to comprehend what he had just been told. The Chancellor? A traitor and a Sith Lord? That was impossible. The magnitude of such treachery was enormous. "I, that's, it's," he wheezed, fighting for breath. Yularen shook his head violently, attempting in vain to clear it. "That's impossible," he finally spat out. "I can't believe-"
"Believe it or not, it's the truth," Kenobi snarled, and Yularen was taken aback by the sudden ferocity in the normally collected Jedi Master. "Now, the reason I'm contacting you is that your task force is the only one in the core systems that is not controlled directly by the Chancellor. You are our only hope of getting off this planet."
The vice in Yularen's stomach tightened even further, constricting and stifling all thoughts. Obi-Wan's voice became a distant murmur as the fear in his stomach collected into a leaden ball, weighing down his insides as he fought to comprehend what was happening.
"Admiral?" Kenobi asked. "Admiral! Can you hear me?"
Yularen gasped, forcing himself back to the present and pushing away the fear. If it were anyone other than Obi-Wan telling him this, he would have dismissed them as mad and had them arrested. In the many operations with which he had worked side-by-side with the Jedi, however, he had learned that Obi-Wan never, ever lied.
And in that moment, all his loyalties changed. The Jedi, he knew, were not enemies of the Republic. Had it not been for the Jedi, the CIS would have likely stormed Coruscant months ago. And so, in the face of the world he had dwelt in so long collapsing around him, he realized in a moment of sudden clarity that it was his duty to aid the Jedi. He could handle this, he told himself. He was trained for unexpected circumstances. Of course, he had never expected anything this unexpected. He almost managed a smile at the irony.
"I'm here," he said, rubbing his suddenly-sweating palms on the side of his suit and a newfound determination in his voice. "What's the situation?"
"Clone legions are advancing upon the Jedi Temple even as we speak," Kenobi said, in a surprisingly detached tone of voice. "We are currently organizing a defense, but much of our strength is deployed to the Outer Rim systems." Yularen saw a flinch on the Jedi General's features, and he abruptly realized that those Jedi were most certainly doomed. He had heard of Contingency Order 66, of course, but he had always thought it a mere technicality. He had certainly never expected it to be ordered, and especially not by a Chancellor-turned traitor.
"We are currently preparing for an evacuation," he said, "but we must have something to evacuate to. We beseech you, admiral, to allow our transports aboard your ship, so that we may escape this unthinkable treachery before we are slaughtered like a cornered mynock."
Yularen swallowed. That was a tall task, but he had seven ships under his command, and felt confident he could accomplish it. "How many?" he asked.
"There are about three hundred currently at the Temple now," Kenobi said. "Mainly teachers and younglings."
Yularen nodded. Three hundred Jedi were well within his capacity to undertake. "Very well," he said, feeling some of his professional calm that he prided himself so much on beginning to return. Just treat this like any other mission, he thought. Leave the big-picture thinking for later. "We shall aid you."
Kenobi seemed to shrink in size, his shoulders slumping with relief. "You have my deepest thanks, Admiral," he said, his voice raw with emotion, and Yularen realized that the Jedi was even more confused and shocked than he. "We shall never forget this."
He abruptly brought his head back up, as if remembering something. "And one more thing, Admiral. We did not have time to broadcast this message on an encrypted channel. If it is of any comfort, this conversation was likely overheard by half of Coruscant's defense fleet."
Oh dear. Yularen blinked. The transmission was abruptly cut, and Obi-Wan vanished, leaving behind a very confused and worried admiral.
"Transmission terminated," Sigma announced unnecessarily, and Yularen was abruptly grateful that these clones were not directly loyal to the Chancellor, or he would likely already be in cuffs and sitting in the brig.
"Fermion, tactical map, now," Yularen said, striding to the holoscreen that displayed tactical data.
"On it, sir," the clone said, his fingers pounding diligently away before a map of the Coruscant system appeared, showing the known positions of the Resolute and its task force, as well as the positions of Republic Navy vessels, now outlined in red.
It took a moment for Yularen to get over the oddness of seeing ships he had fought alongside for so long registering as hostile, but once he did, he saw what good fortune they had been presented. Much of the Coruscant Defense Fleet was scattered around the system's edges, at the known hyperspace exit points, ready to ward off another attack by the CIS. A few hours ago it would have been a sound strategy, but now, the bulk of Coruscant's formidable defenses were concentrated away from the planet. It would take them at least two hours at sublight speed to reach the Resolute. Yularen would have to leverage those two hours to their limit.
"Contact the captains," he said. "Tell them…what has transpired," Yularen ordered, forcing the words past a knot in his throat. He had no doubts that the captains of the other ships under his command would likely respond to the news the same way he had; however, he could not afford waiting for them to think it through.
"And make it clear that I will brook no argument from any of them," he added.
"Yes, sir," Sigma replied.
Yularen turned back to the tactical screen, surveying the odds he was against. His task force, three aging Venators and another quartet of sleek Acclamator-II assault ships, stood against a squadron of corvettes, four new Venator Star Destroyers, six Arquitens-class light cruisers, and a single Tector-class Star Destroyer.
Long odds, but Yularen wasn't planning on running them for long.
"Sir," Sigma said. "All captains have acknowledged and await orders."
Yularen swallowed. He hadn't had much time to formulate a plan, and he could only hope that this would work. "Tell them all to take up position behind this debris belt," he said, tapping a position that lay behind a string of floating wreckage and near one of Coruscant's moons. The debris would hopefully help shield the ships from enemy fire, and the moon would provide extra cover for when they punched out-system. "They will engage the enemy in a delaying action while the Jedi are evacuated."
"What about us, sir?" Epsilon asked. "Where are we going?"
Yularen took a deep breath and moved to the bridge window. Already he could see the distant shapes of Republic vessels breaking off their patrol patterns, closing in on the newly-found traitors in their midst.
And then, in a tone reminiscent of a holo-vid action hero, he said, "We're going in."
Jedi Temple, Coruscant
Obi-Wan Kenobi stood on the steps of the Jedi Temple, calling out orders as his voice grew hoarser. The evacuation of the Temple had begun, younglings and teachers being escorted to transport ships in the hangars of the Temple. It had been hard to get the younglings moving, many of them so young, crying at the disturbances and their sudden eviction from their home. Obi-Wan, Mace, and Shaak Ti had taken it upon themselves to organize the defense of the Temple. All battle-ready Jedi at the Temple had been pressed into service, gathering at the top of the Temple stairs to hold off an attack at all costs.
And one of them was missing. Anakin had not been heard from since he inexplicably took off right after dropping off Mace. Obi-Wan felt a thrill of fear, wondering if Anakin was returning to Sidious, if the allure of the dark side had become too tempting.
No. Obi-Wan reached out with the Force, and he could sense his former Padawan's presence, getting ever-closer. He was returning from somewhere, but his aura remained pure and uncorrupted by the influences of the dark side.
Obi-Wan allowed himself a sigh of relief, giving thanks for a small victory in a time like this. Even though Anakin was technically a Knight now, after so many years, Obi-Wan couldn't help but view the younger Jedi as still his apprentice, a fact that irked Anakin very much.
Obi-Wan turned his gaze across the large square that stood in front of the Temple. Any minute now, clones were going to be marching across that square, preparing to stamp out the Jedi once and for all. It was a terrifying prospect, being on the edge of extinction, and Obi-Wan forced himself not to think about it.
A shift in the Force heralded the approach of another Jedi, and Obi-Wan turned to see Shaak Ti approaching, the Togrutan's face lined with concern. "Still no word from Anakin?" she asked.
Obi-Wan sighed and scratched at his chin, where the start of a beard was beginning to develop. "None," he said, "although I can feel his presence getting nearer. I do wish he would give us some warning before he flies off like that."
"And here he comes," said a new voice, as Mace Windu entered the conversation.
"What?" Obi-Wan said, spinning around in surprise as a garish yellow speeder flew overhead, landing at the tip of the stairs.
Anakin was inside. Obi-Wan could recognize that tousled head of hair from anywhere. And beside him was…Padmé Amidala?
Obi-Wan swore, sprinting up the steps to the speeder. What was Anakin up to now?
When he got there, Anakin was in the process of standing up, helping the other person in the speeder-whom Obi-Wan could now definitively confirm was Padmé-and Master Yoda was standing nearby, leaning on that old knotted cane of his as he exchanged words with Anakin.
Obi-Wan knew that Yoda was likely saying exactly what Obi-Wan had planned on, but Kenobi's years of mentoring Anakin forced him to face the Padawan himself.
"What in the nine Corellian hells was that?" Obi-Wan demanded, storming up to the speeder as Anakin helped Padmé to the ground. "Flying off like that without a warning? Without telling us where you're going? You could have gotten killed, you fool!"
"I missed you too, Master," Anakin responded with that roguish grin of his that Obi-Wan found so infuriating. Obi-Wan took in a deep breath in preparation for another verbal tirade, but suddenly felt a restraining tug on his mind in the Force.
"Told him this much, I already have," Master Yoda said. "What is now important is that here he is."
Obi-Wan blew out a breath. "Right. Anyways, what's with the rescue?" he said, gesturing towards Padmé, who seemed to flinch at the gesture.
Anakin seemed to take that the wrong way, and his hackles rose. "Would you rather I have left her to be captured by Sidious?"
Obi-Wan blinked, nonplussed. "No," he began cautiously, knowing that his former apprentice for some reason got awfully touchy when the subject of Padmé was raised. "No," he repeated, "but you're a Jedi Knight, now. We can't have you gallivanting about rescuing every Senator that appears to be in a whiff of danger."
"Well I'm not, am I," Anakin said with that infuriatingly simple yet always-correct logic of his. Obi-Wan reached out to the Force, feeling the cooling energy run through him. His former apprentice always seemed to find a way to annoy his former master to no end, while still somehow salvaging results from his disobedience. It made him extremely hard to pin down.
"In any matter," said Mace as he arrived on the scene. "The important thing is that he's here now. Anakin, you must take your place in the line. Padmé, you should join the younglings."
"I can fight!" Padmé protested, dropping a hand to the blaster at her waist. Obi-Wan sighed in frustration, knowing from experience the obstinate nature of the Naboo Senator. He began to gather his arguments, to explain to her that in the midst of a line of fighting Jedi she would be no more than a vulnerable distraction, when Anakin abruptly leaned down and whispered something in her ear. Padmé's expression flashed from determination to calm in a moment, and she removed her hand from the blaster.
"There is no need," she re-stated as Anakin straightened back up. "I will go with the younglings.
Obi-Wan frowned, his brow beetling. Since when did Anakin hold such an influence over the Senator? What had he said?
"Good, this is," Yoda said. "Calm the younglings, her presence will." Padmé marched off towards the evacuation area, while Anakin stared forlornly at her retreating back.
Obi-Wan reached out as far as he could with the Force without Anakin's detection. A complex cloud of emotions swirled around the two, and Obi-Wan frowned.
There was something going on between those two. Something strange. He was about to open his mouth to ask Anakin about it, but whatever he was going to say would remain forever a mystery.
"The clones!" cried out a Jedi from the front steps. "They approach!"
All thoughts of Anakin and Padmé were immediately banished from Obi-Wan's mind, as he joined everyone else in sprinting to the hastily-constructed defenses as the top of the stairs. He joined the line of battle-ready Jedi, nearly fifty Knights, Masters, and Padawans of all different races, and stared out at the square.
A host of clones was advancing across, the blue trim on their shining white armor marking them as the 501st division. The Republic's elite fighting force. Obi-Wan swallowed. There were hundreds of them, thousands, all of them marching forwards in a slow, steady cadence. The regular rise and fall of their armored boots sent tremors through the ground.
Halfway across the square, the legions abruptly halted, spreading out and dropping into firing stances. Many drew vibroblades, preparing to charge the Jedi and provide close-in distractions. Others dropped to prone and kneeling positions to provide more accurate fire. Even more stood behind, waiting.
"Here we go again," Obi-Wan heard Anakin mutter to the side.
For a long minute, the two sides stared at each other across the square, the silence becoming thick and palpable. Obi-Wan shifted awkwardly; staring down the barrels of several hundred blaster rifles tended to make one a little less poised than usual.
Mace, of course, was the one that galvanized the Jedi line. Taking a step forward, he ignited his blade, a shimmering beam of purple-white energy springing into existence with a deadly hum. "Stand firm!" he called, raising his lightsaber high. "And fear no darkness!"
All along the line, other Jedi roared their approval, and blades of blue, green, yellow, and a multitude of other colors flashed into existence. Obi-Wan hit the activation stud on his own saber, and the blade sprang to life with its customary snap-hiss. The blade hummed as he moved it through the air, his hand vibrating slightly as he brought the saber into a ready stance.
As the Jedi brandished their weapons, the clones across the square stood firm, unimpressed. Then, as one, they gave their answer.
A tidal wave of blue blaster fire streaked across the square, hammering into the thin line of Jedi with the force of a hammer striking a sheet of paper. Obi-Wan and the other Jedi spun their blades frantically, deflecting the deadly bolts away. Several of the younger Jedi fell under that first barrage, overwhelmed by the sheer number of lasers sent their way. Obi-Wan didn't have time to mourn their loss, however; that would come after the battle, if they survived. Now, he needed to focus on simply staying alive.
Obi-Wan spun his lightsaber around, his brow knitting in concentration as he reached out with the Force, detecting where the bolts would come next and where he needed to move his blade to deflect them. It was grueling work, with the amount of firepower coming their way. All along the line, lightsabers rotated like colorful wands at a light show, sending the deadly lasers back to those who had fired them.
The clones began to advance across the square, firing steadily to keep the Jedi suppressed. At an unheard signal, a company-sized element of the clones sprinted forward from the rest, firing steadily as they began to climb the steps to engage the Jedi in close combat.
"Not…one…step…back!" bellowed Mace, spitting out the words between gritted teeth as his lightsaber wove a web of violet, deflecting bolts into the armor of onrushing clones.
The other Jedi emulated his tactic, deflecting the bolts into the chests of the clones climbing the steps. White-armored figures began to fall, but the clones were firing as well, and several Jedi took incapacitating hits in the legs and arms, forcing them to drop out of line.
Obi-Wan took a deep breath as the clones closed with the top step. Even more were coming up from behind, attempting to overwhelm the meager line of Force-users. Deflecting a pair of bolts back into the chest of a clone, he carried his momentum through into a diagonal slash, laying open the torso of an onrushing soldier. The super-hot blade melted through the plastoid armor in milliseconds, and the man spun away, his agonized cries only adding to the chaotic din of battle.
More clones were arriving at the top of the stairs by the second, and Obi-Wan had no time to ponder the current hopelessness of their situation. It was now kill or be killed, and he had no intention of being the one lying on the ground at the end of the day.
A group of clones rushed at him, attempting to overwhelm him with their speed. Bad move. Obi-Wan was in his element now. He seamlessly transitioned from move to move, deflecting their blaster bolts as he neatly bisected an approaching clone. Another switched clone switched his grip on his DC-15 and swung it like a bat at Obi-Wan's head. Warned of the danger by the Force, Obi-Wan ducked under the blow and thrust, spearing the clone through the stomach. The clone coughed in pain and surprise, spitting up blood that coated the interior of his visor. Remorselessly, Obi-Wan lashed out with his foot, kicking the clone in the chest and sending him sliding off his blade. Obi-Wan then rolled forwards, slicing a thin line across another clone's chest.
Panting with exertion, Obi-Wan fell back to his place in the line and continued battling. Clones were now advancing towards the Jedi over piles of dismembered bodies, but they advanced nonetheless. And these were no senseless droids; clones had been bred to fight and fight effectively, and that was exactly what they were doing. They separated into impromptu hunter-killer groups, ganging up on and overwhelming individual Jedi. Others threw grenades, forcing the Jedi to dodge out of the way of the dangerous blasts. It felt odd to be on the receiving end of tactics Obi-Wan had benefitted from so many times during the Clone Wars.
Obi-Wan gasped for air as he fought, his mouth heaving open. Even the energy provided by the Force could only last so long. He lopped off the arm of an approaching clone, and his eyes widened in alarm as the clone pulled a thermal detonator off his belt with his remaining good hand and charging forward. Desperately, Obi-Wan reached out to the Force and pushed, sending the clone flying backwards, limbs flailing, into a group of his brethren, where the grenade then exploded with visceral results.
Other Jedi were fighting effectively as well; Anakin reached out with the Force to pull a clone towards him while simultaneously thrusting up, skewering the soldier through the chest. Master Yoda fought like a demon, hopping around with mind-numbing speed, his green blade slashing clones to ribbons as they ineffectually tried to target his small form.
Everything began to blur together for Obi-Wan. His moved as if on autopilot, slicing apart his adversaries and deflecting bolts without conscious thought. His arms began to feel leaden, his veins burning with exertion, but he fought nonetheless, feeling the sweat run down the small of his back as he skewered yet another onrushing clone. Letting the trooper's body fall of the blade, Obi-Wan felt a surge of despair. They just don't end! He thought as he hacked through another group of them. Two more Jedi fell, overcome by blaster fire, and Obi-Wan saw in his peripheral vision a Padawan get overwhelmed, the vengeful clones gathering around his body, brutally clubbing him with their rifle butts. Obi-Wan snarled and he reached out with the Force, sending the group of clones flying off the temple steps.
"Hold strong!" Mace cried, battling off a squad of troopers.
Above, a news hovercraft flitted about, and Obi-Wan smiled bitterly. It appeared they were attracting a bit of attention.
"Transports away!" someone called, and Obi-Wan's smile widened as the first of the transports containing the evacuees began to rise into the sky. More followed behind, and for a moment it appeared that the Jedi might yet pull this off.
Those hopes were dashed in an instant, however, and Obi-Wan's smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. From the back of the clone positions in the square came a sound all too well; the repeated fwump, fwump, fwump, of an anti-aircraft cannon.
Obi-Wan stood stunned as the blue bolts rose into the sky, knowing what would happen but powerless to stop it. The fighting seemed to lull for a moment, and Obi-Wan let the lightsaber fall to his side.
The transports utilized by the Jedi Temple were simple bulk freighters; able to hold large amounts of people and cargo, mainly used to shuffle goods from Point A to Point B. That was something they excelled at. Something they did not excel at was evasive maneuver; the blocky craft had all the maneuverability of a flying brick, and were virtually helpless as the electric blue bolts savaged them from below.
Obi-Wan felt a cry of grief torn from his raw throat as the first transport came apart in a ball of fire, sending debris raining down to the surface. Feeling the souls onboard winking out in the Force felt like someone driving a stake through his heart.
Another AA battery opened up, and another transport disintegrated into flame and wreckage. Obi-Wan fell to his knees, tears beading in his eyes. All of this, all of their work, was for naught. The transports would be eliminated one by one, picked apart by an unstoppable enemy. Then those Jedi on the ground would be surrounded and killed, cornered and with no hope of escape. Obi-Wan looked around. Where once had stood a line of nearly fifty Jedi, barely twenty remained. The others were scattered around, smoking corpses wrapped in charred robes. Was this their fate?
But fate seemed to have different plans; perhaps it was just to amused with Obi-Wan's reactions and decided to keep the emotional roller-coaster going a bit longer, or maybe it was actually sympathizing with the poor Jedi, but for whichever reason, things changed again. Obi-Wan became aware of a growing sound, a dull bass roar that one felt more than heard. The air vibrated around him, booms of thunder becoming audible in the distance.
And then, with a clap of thunder audible from miles away, the cloud cover broke, and something broke through. A Venator-class Star Destroyer sank through the clouds, its hull smoldering and clouds of smoke and steam rolling off of it from the massive heat of its speedy reentry.
Obi-Wan knew that ship, recognized the battle-scarred hull in an instant; it was the GNR Resolute. Yularen had come through on his promise; their salvation had arrived.
Another sound assailed his ears now, a higher-pitched vibrato that struck an effective counterpoint to the roar of the engines keeping the massive capital-ship aloft. A pair of the Resolute's detachment of ARC-170 starfighters swooped in, green lasers stitching lines of fire into the clone positions. Each of them dropped a proton bomb on the positions of the anti-aircraft batteries. The subsequent explosions send yet another tremor through the ground and the dreaded and hated batteries vanished in twin explosions, leaving behind only molten craters scattered with bits of cooling metal and plastoid armor.
Meanwhile, the surviving transports, now with a visible goal in mind, headed up to the looming shape of the Resolute. "Victory!" laughed a Jedi down the line, holding up his lightsaber. "We have victory!"
Once again, however, the celebration proved to be premature. Obi-Wan abruptly noticed that the rumbling in the air had been growing louder over the past minute; while at first he had dismissed it as a natural result of the Resolute's flash entrance, he now realized that that bass roar had grown too much in volume to be only a single ship.
And when he looked up, he understood why.
The two ARC-170s, which had been turning around to make another strafing run on the clones, suddenly vanished. There was no better word from it; both were struck directly with starship-grade turbolasers. The starfighters' shields were overloaded immediately, the craft vaporized, leaving only a few scattered ashes to drift down from the sky. Shaking with terror, Obi-Wan lifted his eyes skyward, and immediately wished he hadn't.
Breaking through the clouds over the city was a massive line of ships. Frigates, light cruisers, corvettes, and even Acclamator-class assault ships. All of them making a direct line towards the Jedi Temple.
Of course, Obi-Wan thought bitterly. Why waste hundreds of troops storming the Temple when you could just obliterate the Jedi from above?
GNR Resolute
"Where the hell did they come from?" Yularen demanded, gesturing to the line of warships that had suddenly broken out of the cloud cover. "Aren't our sensors supposed to detect things like ships!"
"Unknown, sir!" Fermion responded, his helmeted head rotating rapidly as he brought up data on his console screens. They may have been hiding in the upper levels of the city's skyscrapers; our sensors may have mistaken them for part of the skyline."
Yularen snarled, stalking back to the window. That didn't matter. All that mattered was now, there was a line of approximately twenty ships bearing down on the Resolute. "All discretionary power to shields," he ordered as the ships' turbolaser batteries began to warm up, the barrels crackling with energy. "Terron," he said, "engage at will, but be forewarned; we cannot afford for this to become a protracted engagement."
Terron nodded. "Understood, sir," he said, activating the Resolute's DBY-827 dual-cannon turbolaser batteries. The Resolute struck first, sending a volley of blue lasers at the approaching line of Republic ships. Yularen nodded with approval as he saw that Terron had targeted one of the weaker ships, an Arquitens-class light cruiser near the fore of the line. The smaller ship's shields flashed as they valiantly tried to repel the massive firepower, but then winked out, the ship succumbing to the blasts and breaking apart in a brilliant explosion. The detonation forced several other ship nearby to swerve off their attack runs to avoid the debris, which would also clog enemy sensors.
Another kill to add to the Resolute's lengthy list, as well as its first kill of a fellow Republic ship. Yularen wondered how long that list would grow before this escape was over.
Apparently, not too long, if the next event was any indication on how things would go. Just as Terron picked out his next target, the Republic ships responded, sending a wave of turbolaser fire towards the battered Venator. The bolts impacted on the cruiser's starboard side…and did no damage whatsoever. The Resolute's shields burned a brilliant gold as they repelled the murderous barrage, before fading back to their transparent state.
"Status?" Yularen asked.
"Starboard shields at eighty-three percent and holding steady, sir," Hal responded.
Yularen frowned. The Venator's boosted shields were holding, but they couldn't survive more hits like that. "Helm," he said, "maneuver the ship to present our port side to the enemy. Operations; all discretionary power to portside shields."
"Sir!" Epsilon and Hal responded sharply, going about their tasks. Turning your strongest side to face the enemy was an age-old naval tactic, but Yularen hoped it would be enough. "What's the status on the evacuation?" he asked.
"All transports save one have docked," said Hal as he manipulated the shielding. "We're waiting on the final one."
Yularen closed his eyes as the Resolute finished its turn, presenting its fresh portside shields to the enemy just in time to catch another murderous barrage. The shields held, however, and Terron returned the favore, flash-frying several corvettes and blowing a gaping hole in the side of an Acclamator-II.
"Just a minute more," Yularen whispered, turning his gaze to the surface and the Jedi Temple.
"Shield strength at seventy percent!"
Hurry up, you old bastards.
"Run?" Anakin suggested, and Obi-Wan immediately felt it was the wisest statement the young man had ever made.
"Agreed," he said.
"Fall back to the transport!" Mace yelled, referring to the last remaining transport, saved for the Jedi defending the front. Immediately, the remaining Jedi broke rank and ran, drawing on the last dregs of their Force-assisted strength to sprint to the transport. That last, panicked run would be remembered as one of the most harrowing moments of the Obi-Wan's life. His legs pumped like pistons. Seeing their prey escaping, the clones of the 501st laid down a withering hailstorm of blaster fire, and several more Jedi fell in that last, final run for safety.
The transport was in sight, and Obi-Wan thought the blocky craft was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A pair of Temple workers covered the Jedi's retreat with a pair of blaster rifles as the Jedi pounded up the ramp into the hold.
Obi-Wan collapsed into one of the seats, sweating like a Hutt and panting madly. He clipped his lightsaber to his belt as the ramp sealed back up, the guards falling in. Obi-Wan looked around and his heart fell; standing in the hold with him were eleven Jedi. Mace, Anakin, Yoda, Shaak Ti, and several others, all of them visibly exhausted.
Counting him, twelve had survived. Twelve out of fifty. Obi-Wan didn't have the strength to fall to his knees, so instead he sagged back into his chair, unable to summon the courage to speak as the transport rose into the sky.
GNR Resolute
"Sir!" Hal said, swiveling in his seat. "The last transport has docked."
Not a moment too soon, Yularen thought with relief as the Resolute trembled under the fury of yet another volley. "Helm!" he said. "Flank speed to the rendezvous!"
"Helm is answering flank speed," Epsilon said, and the Resolute's massive engine drives, kept so long in a holding pattern, fired up, finally able to display their true strength.
While the Venator-class was officially designated as a cruiser, its true designation during its development was as a "battlecruiser." The battlecruiser was a much sought-after ideal, able to kill anything that could catch it and outrun anything that could kill it. The Venator illustrated that potential now, as its massive engines accelerated at tremendous speed, pulling its 1,137-meter length up into the atmosphere. The engines pulsed, the kilometer-long ship clawing its way back into vacuum.
Once there, Yularen immediately turned his attention to the rest of his task force that he had left behind to cover their retreat.
It didn't look good.
One of the Venators was dead, a floating, lifeless hulk, atmosphere venting from gaping wounds in its hull. Another Acclamator-II was floating in two halves, adding to the debris belt.
Yularen's heart clenched, but he saw with satisfaction that his men had done well in his absence. Three of the enemy light cruisers were floating in various states of destruction. Two enemy Acclamators were simply gone, clouds of atomized dust marking the spots of their demise. One of the enemy Venators was reeling out of control, a gaping hole in its flank, and the massive Tector-class Star Destroyer was floating lifeless, the blue-white electricity signifying an ion-cannon barrage skittering over its hull.
"Hail them," Yularen ordered, "tell them to form up on us."
"Yes, sir," Sigma responded, immediately hard at work. Yularen watched as the ships under his command broke off the engagement, sending a few parting shots at the adversary as they returned to their flagship.
All but one. A single Acclamator-II was not participating in the retreat. Instead, the assault ship drove at flank speed towards the enemy fleet, guns blazing.
"What the hell?" Yularen barked. "Contact him! Find out what the heck he's doing!"
The ship's holoprojector warmed up, spitting up an image of the Acclamator's captain, Argo Draemus.
"Draemus!" Yularen said. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of there!"
Draemus shook his head sadly. "Sorry, sir," he said. "Our hyperdrive was damaged. We can't jump with you."
Yularen's heart sank. He knew Draemus; the man was a good, competent commander, and a good friend. "But-" he began.
Draemus held up a hand. "No buts, sir. If we stay behind, we'll be destroyed either way. We'll cover your retreat." As he spoke, the Acclamator's guns wrecked a pair of corvettes. "Please," Draemus said, "grant me this one last request."
Yularen swallowed, forcing the words past the ball in his throat. Too many good men had died today; watching Draemus's doomed charge was just one more thing he would have to endure. "Yes," he croaked. "Godspeed."
The Acclamator was nearing the target of its suicidal run; the crippled Tector. Yularen saw immediately what he was planning.
As the Acclamator came within five hundred kilometers of the Star Destroyer, its shields failed under the barrage of laserfire from the Republic fleet, but it didn't matter. At this range, mass and inertia would do the rest.
On-screen, Draemus saluted. "It has been an honor serving with you, sir," he said.
Yularen returned the salute. "Likewise, captain," he said bitterly. "Do us proud."
Draemus nodded. "Yes, sir." The hologram vanished.
With a heavy heart and leaden feet, Yularen walked to the window just in time to see the Acclamator's last valiant sacrifice. Its hull riddled with holes, it bore down inexorably on the Star Destroyer. At five hundred kilometers, the Tector suddenly came back to life, its captain recognizing the threat bearing down on it. Fingers of green energy reached out, melting meters of armor off the incoming assault ship.
But it was too late. The Tector's brief period of helplessness as it recovered from the effects of the ion cannons had been too long, and the Acclamator's run could not be stopped. Now barely recognizable as a ship, the Acclamator was acting as a simple mass, a manmade asteroid as it drove down the throat of its prey.
Just before the Acclamator impacted, its engines went critical.
A brilliant fireball blossomed in the blackness of space, expanding outwards before it eventually died out from lack of oxygen. When it vanished, no trace of Draemus's ship remained. The Star Destroyer was likewise annihilated; only a portion of its bow remained, drifting off into space.
Yularen felt a single tear run down his weathered face.
"Sir," said Epsilon, "the fleet reports they are ready to jump. We have coordinates to Cantam."
Cantam. The empty system where the Jedi had hoped to rendezvous. Perhaps he could form a resistance group there, a rebel force to oppose the traitorous Chancellor. Yularen needed plans for the future to keep his mind off the present. I wouldn't be alive, if not for Draemus, he thought bitterly, with a small smile. The fool always did want to be a hero.
"Jump," he whispered.
A subtle whine entered the background as the hyperdrive engaged. The pinpricks of stars lengthened into lines, and then the Resolute task force, last free forces of the Republic, vanished into the void above Coruscant.
A/N: REVIEW! For my sanity's sake!