Note: I would like to see a few more reviews, like to know a few more people were reviewing this, and like a little feedback on the plot and such. Wishful thinking. Read & Review!!
Disclaimer: George Lucas, not him! Lucasarts and Lucasfilms, not them! I don't have the copyrights, but I don't expect to get paid for this. So come down. Star Wars is their baby, not mine.
"ETA...one point two three hours from Kothlis."
Look down at the white armored clad clone as he toiled away on a computer terminal, calculating speeds and distances, the lone figured atop the walkway silently confirmed the trooper's estimate. Decked in a pressed, green uniformed and a rank badge signifying a commander on his left breast, the officer turned and glanced out the panoramic of transparisteel as the phantasm of hyperspace rolled past. Twisting about, the commander crossed the raised deck to the adjacent crew pit as more clone troopers and clone officers went about the management of flying a "Star Destroyer", as Venator cruisers were coming to called.
"Commander Isibray..." The naval officer turned to see the grizzled Jedi General, Rahm Kota.
"Ah, General." Isibray replied, "Has the preparations for the reinforcing Kothlis got smoothly? I hope we haven't come all this way and find that the troopers can't be deployed when arrive."
"Nothing awry, Commander. Your services have helped considerably with the refits..." Kota eye moved to a pale uniformed clone advising a trooper as he read from a datapad, "... ...despite your men. The matter now is determining the LZ points planetside. We'll need to land inside the city, and from the reports, I gathered that the capital isn't made for massive troop deployments. Barely enough room for tanks and walkers. It's probably what saved our troops from being rolled over at the start, letting the struggling, tube-born clones hold out 'til now."
"Well, it appears that your struggling, tub-born clones already thought this far ahead and just com in coordinates of landing gunships!" The commander smirked, knowing the steel faced Jedi was boiling inside, "Come this way, General."
Isibray ushered the Jedi back down the walkway to the conjoining chamber at the rear of the bridge. Officers and troopers buzzed about, reviewing tall grid maps and working over multicolored screens of data. At the center of the room was the medium sized hologram projection pod with a large, ghostly globe above it, created from the projector's light blue light. Major Tekshar was standing along side the holoprojector, dressed in her tactical vest and pads, her bright white swooping helmet under the major's arm. He gaze moved from the rotating globe to the closing general and commander.
"Sirs." Aasia greeted her superiors with a nod.
"Tekshar. Have the clones sent us anything more then just where to park?" The senior officer silently answered the question by slipping her hand over a few switches and buttons on the projection pod. The globe turned ninety degrees on to it's side, zoom in close to the surface to form a topographically accurate display of spanning city and the area around it.
"When the attack began, Sanyassan B-wings launched from the planet and took out of the defense and surveillance satellite network, so we're completely working from observations of the boots on the ground." The major pointed to a spot on the holo, a tall bump not too far from where the city bang, "This Sanies base of operations is this mountain..." Aasia clicked another button and image changed to detail an outline of the bump, transparent enough to see dozens of tiny cubes with little lines connecting, "The clone scouts using subterranean mapping scanners discovered a number off chambers hide just under the surface. With it, the Sanies were able to sit tight and wait without revealing there really numbers."
"The Sanyassan tried the same thick on Krant..." Kota related as he surveyed, fingers running over his short beard, "...but we gave them a little more they expected. Republic Intelligence actually did it's job for once and sent us intel on the enemies movements."
"Too bad the boys on Kothlis didn't receive such a advantage as well." The commander retorted with a accusing smile, blowing Kota's success back into his face. The Senior Jedi General was responsible for the whole sector, including Kothlis. Not informing Kothlis was more than a faux pas, it had threaten the system.
"General Grievous was scrambling Bothan transmissions from a hiding listening post-" The Jedi put forth in his defense, but Isibray cut him off... ...
"And when that listening post was destroyed by Skywalker, it was the clones who responded back with the crucial intel to take back the planet. Face it, General. You estimated our boys in white too much."
"Now just hold on!"
The major sighed as she watched her two ranking officers start to debate the effectiveness of clone troopers...again. It had been a long two hours since the general and her climbed aboard the Dauntless. They were two opposites with egos size of galaxies when it came to war. Kota was army, Isibray was navy. Kota saw victory in long campaigns, Isibray in swift fleet actions. The naval officer even disagreed with the Jedi's importance on the moment and his skepticism of the GAR's near total cloned presents, hold the clone army as best tool to under the war quickly. The some of their arguments were about the clones.
"...and it's hard for me to believe that they can fight for the Republic if with barely lived long enough to know what it's like live in it." The general continued his point of the argument, "They met as well fight to ensure the longevity of the Hutt Empire!!"
"They are living beings who will win out over the Confederacy's droid menace because they understand what cold, lifeless machine could never understand... that the Republic is beckon of hope and justice in the Universe."
"Oh! Tell me something that wasn't in one of Chancellor's speeches!!"
"SIRS!!!" Aasia finally bellowed over the pairs bickering. Isibray and Kota look back at the major, and then around the room. The clone troopers and officers had lost their attentions on their work and were watch the two officers from the corner of their eyes. The ranking commanders cleared their throats, the Jedi fold his arms in front of him where as the navy grasped his hands from behind his back. The major rubbed her temple as she sighed again, much more heavily, Can't even the Jedi or the Navy make men act more like men? , Aasia asked herself as her migraine grew.
"...Maybe we should move along..." Commander Isibray said. The Jedi nodded quietly and Isibray directed a hand over the projector's controls. The holo returned to it's original globe form as the commander went on, "When arrive in the system, will make a b-line for the planet..." The hologram Kothlis was joined by a light blue replica of the Dauntless, it's dagger point moving close and close to the planet, "We'll launch squadrons of Torrents to wave off any enemy B-wings..." A few groupings of V-19 fighters appeared next to the holo cruiser and zoom to intercept the coming Sanyassan fighters. The enemy starfighters' hull was shaped like like a wing, soaring horizontally towards the Torrents. The crafts large weapons pod attached the bottom tip of the wing gave the fighter it's characteristic "b" form, "The Dauntless well accelerated into the atmosphere and leave off the larties gunships, then move into a defensive orbit above the planet."
"It won't be need..." The general jumped in, the projections following Isibray's description while spoke, "The Sanies little fleet has already limped back to their base on Dressel, and the Separatists are still licking their wounds from Bothawui."
"It never hurts to be careful, General."
"Sirs? If you'd please..." The major hoped she didn't need to break the two up again.
"So it appears that all that's left is getting to the system, yes, Commander?" Kota stuck his fists on his hips and gnawed the inside of his mouth. Isibray battle plan was fast hitting and a little sloppy, but that's they needed to be quick to break through the Sanyassan lines and they had no time to smooth the edges, "If Kothlis is secured, then the Sanies will be cornered in Dressel system and we'll be one step closer to throwing the lot out of Bothan Space."
"Yes, and the Bothans can back to their neutral stance on the war, ignoring both sides... ..."
Aasia glance to either officer as they both scowled at what victory truly meant in Both. The Bothans hadn't been the only ones to pledge neutrality at the beginning of the war. The Selkath, the Callosians, and many other species and planets took no side at the start of the fighting. However, the Bothans' Spynet could not be overlooked by either the Confederacy or the Republic forever. Soon, the CIS allied themselves with the Sanyassan Privateers and encouraged the young security constructor to reach for tall goals than working for the sector's hyperspace lanes...like conquering the whole sector.
Whatever the reason it started, the Republics had no choice but to come to the assistance of the Bothans, though the Bothans never saw it that way. Protecting the sector had always been Bothans' duty, it was their space. So in a signed agreement, the Republic was to let the furry dog people act with autonomy and then remain neutral after the fighting was done in the sector. General Kota hated it, so did Isibray. It was only thing they agreed upon, as far as Tekshar knew.
"There's still a few arrangements to be made down below." The Senior Jedi General proclaimed and started for the doors, the major in tow.
"I'll keep you updated of any problems we might face, then, shall I?" The naval officer smirked out.
"Just don't miss that system!"
"Oh, yes. I won't."
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In the all of Carthar's life, a decade or less, the young trooper never imagined himself down what he was doing right now. Touching the paper to his lips, the clone took a slow and steady inhale, receiving a mouth full of wisp. The first sense was a slight sting in the back of Carthar's throat, but it was overwhelmed as his brain began to pulsate with a peaceful pressure that washed down his body. The young trooper pulled the paper away as his mouth formed an "o" and gushed out a cloud of white smoke, waving about his head to settle in a orbital ring before it faded away. Carthar pushed the cigarra down to his repeating blaster partner, Chappie, as the clone sat on his bunk, which he took and inhaled a drag from the roll himself. The young trooper stuck his thumb into his belt and moved a step towards the barrack quarter's window. In actuality, it was the giant transparisteel portal of a royal suite in the Hotel Legacy five star resort. It was just another one of those weird consequences that happened in a galaxy wide war, though the clones hadn't the time or the appreciation for such oddities.
Outside, the heavens were still leaking. The rain spatted against the transparency, sliding down it's surface in a thousand lines, as the sky grow blacker and blacker. The Grunts' scouting mission was planned as night op to use the dark as their cover, though that meant one thing to Gamma Squad...waiting. If it there was one thing that could drive a soldier to the edge it was waiting on pins and needles to begin an op. Everything that could possible go awry in a mission quietly invaded the mind, filling it full of images of mangled limbs, scrapped off flesh, skin with protruding bones , and that big one...rioting bodies of the dead. Carthar personally kept picturing his clone vod, Pro, lying in the middle of that juggle clearing, with large chunks of his helmet and head blasted away.
Ending up in that bed in the med station is probably worst, The young trooper thought in silence, To never wake up...unable to help your brothers in the fight...to be totally useless. And I was the one who did it to him... ...
Carthar suddenly felt a tap to his side, to which he turned to look. Chappie was holding up cagarra to him, smoke slowly billowing out the side of his mouth. Taking the roll with a nod and a smile, the young trooper breathed gentle from it, since it was the last cigarra they had between the two clones. It had turned into something of game, rationing the cigarra puffs to make them last while still working to get a little buzz from the roll. It was better then thinking about bad fortunes and comatose friends, all the clones had something. Carthar twisted his site around to the rest of the Grunts as they preoccupied themselves with this and that. Downs was arm deep in his medical backpack, check through all the life saving kit he had for some possible problem with it. Spread out across his bunk, Saga disassembled his DC-15a right down to the pin-joints. The young trooper had done such, himself, with his T-21repeater a few times, but for the older clone it was his over his twentieth. Two new paratroopers to the squad, Lucky and Sol, were sitting at a table that situated in the middle of the room, fiddling around this parts from their Deeces. They were temporarily assigned to Gamma from 2nd Airborne Company to help fill out the Grunts until new recruits came. At the corner of the table sat Sergeant Ram, engrossed in some datapad display, Carthar speculated it was the mission brief. Glancing to new squad tech, Three-Twelve he assisted on be called, the young trooper raised a brow as the clone marched over to the sarge and tensed up in a salute... ...
"Sergeant Alpha-zero-six, sir." Three-Twelve related in perfect Basic annunciation, no word mispronounced, through his HALO's speaker. He was the only one where his helmet, "May I have permission to speak freely?"
"No." The tech jerked his head back slightly, taken aback from the ARC's answer. The elite clone looked up at Three-Twelve, "...not until you call me Sarge Ram. I've haven't been called Alpha-zero-six since was a short lad on Kamino...and even then, only when I got the Kaminoans where mad. Makes me feel like I've done something wrong. At the very least, Sergeant Ramikadu would more preferable."
"Sergeant Ramikadu, then..." Carthar blinked as the clone expertly said the commando's name, something he and many others had be struggling with for some time, "May I have permission to speak freely, sir?"
"Granted." The sarge smirked as Three-Twelve went on... ...
"I would like transfer from Twenty-Eighth Parachute Infantry Regiment to Coruscant's Homeworld Security Command after we get evacuated. I feel that it would be best place for me to make a difference."
Sarge Ram studied the tech, up and down, with a scrutinizing eye. The clone was had remain rigid after his salute, becoming a white iron pole that just appeared in the middle of their quarters. A look crossed the ARC's face, like that of a spiritual revaluation, a calm yet definitive realization. Ram stared ahead, through the walls and pass the atmosphere, right to the edge of the universe.
"...Ok, Twelve..." The sergeant said without looking up at the clone, "You can have your transfer. I don't normal like discussing this things before mission starts, makes me feel like the squad is burst up before we get out the door, but if you feel so strongly... ..."
"I do, sir. Thank you."
Carthar watched as Three-Twelve walked back to his bunk, plopped down on it, and then removed his helmet. The young trooper found it a bit dispiriting to lose a squad mate before he got to know the clone. Taking a glance to the sarge, Carthar found that he too was put off by Three-Twelve's request, though his thoughtful gaze towards the tables surface seemed alighted to a deeper train of mind. Glancing back to Chappie, the younger clone offered the cigarra to continue their little ritual. Chappie, however, smiled and shook his head, his hand reaching across the bed and retrieving a large, clear plastoid bag filled to the brim with goodies. The two clones had raided the hotel's kitchen and had found all sorts of cookies, sweet biscuits, crackers, cakes, and even have finished pot roast... they didn't put that in the bag. The clone started to munch as Carthar step over to Three-Twelve. The clone tech look up from clean his Deece to the young trooper... ...
"Did you want to finish this off?" Carthar posed as held the tabac roll up. Three-Twelve frowned as he glared at the smoldering cigarra.
"Don't you know those kill you?" The tech said in a dry, matter-of-fact tone.
"Ha...yeah, I know." The young trooper smiled. Three-Twelve did, though, it really was a joke for him. Dropped his hand and his smile, but kept on with the kindness attacks, trying to get ice broken between the two of them, "So...I guess you most of been in the Airborne for sometime, at least longer then me. I got on board the day the attack started. Nice timing, huh!"
"Yeah..." The clone went back to clean, "I've been paratrooper for a month now."
A month?! And he's begging for a transfer!! Carthar had hard time believe what he was hearing. With amount of time it took to train a clone paratrooper, it seemed to be a waste to just leave for a completely different service, Had all the fight wear down on him? Maybe he got somebody hurt like I did to Pro... ...
"A month, huh?" The younger clone continued with friendly attitude, hoping push to deeper, "All that time at Jump School and you want jump out now...was the food that bad??"
"Is it really that important."
"I guess it isn't... ... But don't you want to use what you training to do? Take the fight to the Seps and their tinnie army?? What's Homeworld Security go need a paratrooper for anyway?"
"I don't know, maybe I'll jump down some senator's throat if he gets out of line. I don't see how it's any of your buisness."
"Hey...I don't mean anything by it..."
Three-Twelve didn't reply, he just kept cleaning his blaster, checking the primer mechanism as he went. Carthar didn't press it. Turning back walk back to Chappie, the clone put the cigarra between his lips and took a long drag, letting the nicotine wash his thoughts away. As he neared his partner, Chappie offered the young trooper a cracker from his bag-o-food. Carthar flicked the burning end off his cigarra and placed it in a belt pouch, hoping to finish it later with Chappie, before taking the clone's cracker.
"Not the friendliest of brothers, huh?" The young trooper's partner related as Carthar bit into the cracker in hand. It had the elusive sweet taste of honey, add with just the enough amount of salt. The younger clone wolfed down the wafer and was rewarded by Chappie with another, "I can never understand troopers like him, never happy where they were bred to be. Like their trying to find some purpose in there lives when it already set right in front us."
"Civvies do it..." Carthar replied with mouth full of confections while pulling out more from the bag.
"Yeah...well, there birth-born. They don't have luxury of a maker to tell them who they are."
"...What about...the sarge?"
"What about him?"
"You know..." The young trooper point his thumb to Ram as he took big swallow, revealing him of the food in this mouth, "Hello! The kama and the pauldron! Remember, the sarge was an ARC commando. He transferred here, right."
"The sarge? He's a good leader and fighter, that's not in questioned, but way would he want to leave the ARCs for anyway?"
The pair's conversation had turned down to a hush whisper between the two of them. It was risky to talk about a NCO's personal life while right in front of him, not to mention rude, though Chappie had made a good point. From the elite clone's armor markings, he was a lieutenant in the Advance Recon Commandos and now he was just a sergeant, one rank down. And if it wasn't for climbing the ranks, it sure wasn't for action. Being a paratrooper was no desk duty on Coruscant, but with Special Operations sending the ARCs across the galaxy to attack key Separatist fixtures and starting insurrections on enemy held planets one did not yearn for a better battle.
Then what made the sarge want to throw away his rank and join us normal vode?
"Ok, ladys!!" Sergeant Ram suddenly shouted, pulling his HALO on and grabbing his WESTAR, "We've got a date with a few entrenched Sanie in a romance, bombed-out park."
Carthar trooped over his bunk, right next to his repeater blaster partner's, as Chappie stuffed the plastiod bag between the side of the wall and his cot. The younger clone quickly slipped his helmet on and dumped a couple clips of ammo in his belt. Saga and the two temps, who's picked apart Deeces where quickly reassembled within a few seconds, jumped up and geared up. Three-Twelve had his assortment of scanners and track devices attached around his belt, ready to map the world in precise detail. Downs and Chappie simultaneously donned their backpacks, one filled with precious lifesaving kit and the other with half a cubic meter of deadly plasma, respectively. The young trooper grasped his light repeating blaster and move to encircle the ARC sarge, along with the rest of the squad. Ram twist his head about, surveying the clones with their weapons and kit, Carthar and his partner with power cables hanging from their necks. The elite clone nod once, place a hand on one hip and his rifle butt on the other.
"Now that we're all gussied up, I wanted to say something to all new lads..." Sol and Lucky stood tall, giving all their attention to the sarge. The clone tech, however, remain un-phased, "When go out their, we're not going out there as CT-so-and-so from this squad or that company. We're Gamma Squad...we're the Grunts. We fight together and go home together. It doesn't matter what we're planning to do later..." The ARC glance to Three-Twelve, "...because this mission is too important. We're clearing the path for last hope to save every clone and Bothan on his planet."
"Sir, we all do respect..." Lucky began as the sarge turned to him, "General Kota is far from the last hope for clones like us. He'll probably start bombarding the ground under us the minute he gets into orbit!"
"Do you really believe that, trooper? Or do you just like spreading rumors for gossip sake... ..."
Sarge Ram trod up to clone and stared at him through his visor, sending a glared down at him. They were the same height, of course, but just at that moment Lucky seemed to shrink under his presence. The out-ranked trooper broke the stare first, swinging his head to the ground. The sergeant never took defiance lightly, and everyone who tried to take a stance against him were knocked to the dirty. Carthar remembered the ARC taking that to a literal sense to Saga.
"Grunts! Let's move out!!"
The clones trooped out of the room in heart beat, rushing down the hall to the staircase that lead down to the lower floors of the hotel. Move down pass the lobby, to the basement levels, the squad came upon the med station door. Pushing through it and across the chambers of coughing and bandaged troopers, Carthar catch a glimpse of the clone medic, Uncle, treating a bedridden man with a large amount of dressings around his head. It was Pro. The young trooper watched while moving as Uncle fiddled with a fallen clone's IV drip, a pit of guilt forming in Carthar's stomach. From behind, Chappie's hand tapped the younger clone's back, tell him that he was here. He knew Carthar's struggle and he was going to stand with his brother. All this in a simple two taps on his partner's back.
As the clones moved past the med station they reached another door, much more durable looking then the last, with it's durasteel construction and heavy hinges. A large wheel, paint red, was set at the middle of door which left the impression as a locking mechanism. The clone trooper next to the door confirmed the idea, moving over to the wheel and turning the device with evident effort. The sound of metal scrapping, screeching flowed from the door in a powerful decibels. The trooper then pulled back, throwing all his weight into it, swinging the mighty door open. Carthar could see way the clone struggled. The door's width was easily the length of his arm! The squad bused through the cleared doorway, the sarge being the last to go through and the gave the clone trooper a nod. He returned the nod and started to heave the durasteel door back into place, then secured it with loud clank. The Grunts were past the point of no return.
The young trooper surveyed the chamber they had come into. He found Lieutenant Czar and Kappa Squad waiting patiently in the middle of area, the faintly lit glowrods laid scattered around them. They numbered just a few clones shy of a full squad, just like Gamma. Looking up, Carthar followed how the ceiling rounded into the wall and how the wall rounded into the floor. They were in a giant cylinder, with a some stream passing through the middle. Their ARC sergeant moved past the rest the squad and presented himself before Czar, preforming a quick salute as identify their presence... ...
"Gamma Squad, ready for your command, sir!"
"It's nice to see you, Sergeant Ram." The clone officer related before turning to the squad, "Men...this is the mission that will define the battle..." The lieutenant began a little speech to galvanize the troops...but...seeing that the sarge had already spelled the whole situation out in the barracks, Czar's words had little of the effect he might have wished. Carthar blanked out most of what the clone was saying. Instead, the young trooper's focus was on the officer's personal defense weapon. CO's and NCO's both had the luxury of choice none standardized Republic equipment and the lieutenant had chosen a Golan Arms FA-2 flechette launcher. The FA-2 fired canisters containing hundreds of razor-sharp flechettes, durasteel darts that spread out over the large area. It was perfect weapon against "wet" targets, like Sanie infantry. Czar started sound as though he was ending, Carthar started listen again, "...and with innocent Bothans on the line, I can not stress the importance of team work on this mission. So, stay sharp and follow orders."
"What's are plan of attack, sir?" The ARC inquired.
"We'll embark to our zones through these sewer tunnels, they run right under both sites. Our scouts were able to map the tunnels throughout the fighting, so we have a pretty good idea where we're going. Some the tunnels are flooded very badly, so don't try to move through them. We can move around them easily enough." The clone officer gestured to one his squad to move over to him. The paratrooper precipitated, hauling a large bag under his arm, "Private Niner, here, will give each of you two thermal detonators. You will use them against the enemy's positions, their trenches and hold up house. Hopefully, the Sanyassans won't be at either location and you won't need to use them."
Each trooper got their detonators and head out, push off down the tunnel to clear the LZ and with some luck end the grueling fighting for Kothlis. Soon the clones were knee deep in water that smelled like... ...well, it was definitely a sewer. Carthar had his T-21 leveled across his chest, fearful of what the nasty liquid would do the repeating blaster. Most of the other clones had the same idea, some even held their weapons above their heads. The temp trooper Sol, who was issued a RPS-6 rocket launcher and Deece, struggled the most. As the squads continued through the sludge, they commanders suddenly halted and both held up their fists to tell the clones to do the same.
"This tunnel here leads to the Bothawui Avenue." The lieutenant point of to his left, where a massive hole, a dark void in wall. Even looking through tunnel with is image enhancing HUD, Carthar could barely see past three meters down it's length, "Your path continues down this tunnel, Sergeant."
"Right, sir."
"It might be best to reconfirm the laser beacons codes, again." Czar pulled out a device with a long probe protruding from it. The clone officer activated the device and the probe started to flash red. Ram withdrew a identical device and activated it as the lieutenant spoke, "This beacon is set as six-niner-four-two... ..."
"Mine has one-one-three-eight, Lieutenant. Three-Twelve, can you confirm that with Command?"
"... ..." The young trooper looked to the silent clone tech for an answer. But Three-Twelve continued to hold a hand to the side of his HALO and said nothing. His head seem to bob slight, as though he was speaking, which meant he was talking to the Command Center on a secure comlink channel. After a few seconds, the tech related, "Confirmed, sirs. Six-niner-four-two and one-one-three-eight... Plus the captain wises us the best of the Force."
"Right, let's get moving along. Kappa!! On me!" Czar started off down the left passage, Kappa Squad trooping after him, leaving the Grunts by themselves on mission that left little room off error.
Carthar couldn't let himself miss up like he did with Pro... ...
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Conferring with his clone officers on the bridge of the Dauntless, Commander Isibray was preparing for last minute checks of exiting hyperspace. If his calculations were correct, which they always are, the ship should re-enter realspace just on the other side of Kothlis' asteroid field. Isibray's clone lieutenant, Dorr, handed the naval senior a datapad with a checklist of every minor system that needed a closed or tightening or rearranged. Left unchecked, the Dauntless would face a severe fate, like accelerating out of hyperspace straight into the planet...or just plain blowing up. The list had a go on all the checks, giving the green-light to exit lightspeed.
"Prepare for the jump back to realspace!" The commander trumpeted, the crew pits around him a flurry of troopers and officers movements. The phantasm of blues outside the large transparisteel viewports morphed into a stretches of lights, then again to black spread of stars. Several great globes stood transfixed in the star field, the largest that filled up the entire of the left most section of the viewports was Kothlis, itself. Isibray slowly walked across raised walkway, Lieutenant Dorr right beside him, and gazed at the colossal blue ball, "Amazing site... ..."
"What's that, sir?" Dorr asked, wondering if his senior officer was talking to him.
"A planet his amazing thing, Dorr, especial from orbit. People these days don't seem to appreciate that."
"I would image because most see them everyday, Commander."
"It more than just the appearance, Lieutenant... They're nature starships!" The clone noticed a gleam in Isibray eye as he spoke, "Think of how it be to command a vessel so self-sufficient that it could feed and house it's crew, indefinitely. Fleets of equally impressive satellite planets following as the course of the universe, an invincible battle cruiser! Not even entire armada could destroy it. Nothing could!"
"If you say so, sir." The commander looked over to Dorr and smiled at the clone, with pity. He was good first officer, Isibray would surmise, but still as unimaginative as many clones were. He patted Dorr on the shoulder and turned the clone trooper at sensor station... ..
"Long-range scanners, report."
"No fighters on screen, Commanderr-" The trooper leaned back, hands gripping the around the terminal, as he made a double-take at the screen, "Two frigate type vessels coming around from third moon!!!"
"What?!" Isibray flew over to the clone trooper down in the crew pit, "Could they be the two Acclamators transports we for relieve work??"
"IFF hasn't identify them and I'm not familiar with is capital ship class, sir." The naval senior bent down to the terminal screen, waving his hand of a few controls to better enhance the display of the mystery ships' hull configuration. Isibray froze, "Sir?"
"...Ymir-class bombardment ships..." The trooper slightly tilted his head to the side, then looked to the display again. One of the frigates had started to form a bright ball of light very tip it's bow, as it position itself as though it was aiming at... ... The commander stood straight up and bellowed across the bridge, "All starboard thrusters at full!!! HARD TO PORT!!!!!"
The moment Isibray threw out his command, a beam of crimson shot from the Ymir-class, quickly crossing the distance between two vessels. The Dauntless lurched to one side, the whole bridge staff stumbling to their rights, as the beam got closer and closer. But it wasn't fast enough. The crimson mega-laser past under the right side of the viewports and was followed by a huge explosion that shook the ship and caused crew to jump up and fall to the ground. At least one clone trooper was sent flying in the air to the other side of the bridge, from where Isibray was standing.
"Blast it all!!" The commander shouted, "Full power to forward shields! Give me a damage report!!"
"Number two and one engines are damaged. Decks C, F, and G on the right tower are all reporting hull breaches." Dorr's voice was much more sober and calm than his ranking officer, though the panic was still clear, "D and E decks are not reporting in..."
"By the Force, itself..."
Down in the main hanger the Dauntless, General Kota and Major Tekshar were dashing across the deck. Clones and militiamen raced around them, chasing loose equipment and securing steaming pipes. The two neared a comlink terminal on a far wall and the Jedi smashed on the bridge-call button... ...
"Commander Isibray!!" The general exclaimed into the com receiver, "What in hell is going on?!"
"We came out of hyperspace and were ambushed by Sanyassan Privateer vessels, sir!" A clone voice answered in the commander's stead.
"Sanies! What are you saying, clone!!"
"Two Ymir-class frigates attacked before we could start military maneuvers, sir. We're barely keeping out of their fire now!"
Kota scowled down at the deck under his feet, biting the inside of his mouth. The general had bet on system to be clear and now they were in a knife fight with two heavily armed capital ships...with a limp. No doubt Sanie B-wings were coming to finish what the Ymirs started. A fleeting thought stepped across the Jedi's mind, pull out. Cut their losses before they doubled, prevent Kothlis from become another Jabiim. Or worst, another Duro. It was grim prospect and the reality of it happen piled up in Kota's mind, clenching at his throat. Though, only for a moment. The Senior Jedi knew the fate of Kothlis, the whole sector even, would turn out worst then Duro if they did nothing.
"Aasia, have you been to Bogden?" The general inquired, soldiers still rushing about around the two. The petite major stared at Kota as though he asked her bark like a sick dog.
"Sir, is this the time-" Tekshar tried, but the Jedi continued over her.
"On Bogden we have these little spiders, with looong legs. Their thin things, don't require a lot of force to kill them, so you can imagine a young boys taking a little pleasure in smashing and torturing the things. The cruelty of children and that. I did it number of times myself as child, killing and drowning them. During the war, our trenches were crawling with those spiders. I mostly ignored them by then, being older and all, but one day was different. I remember that day clear, I always will, since it was the first day I shoot a man and the first day I watched a man. He groaned for hours before he stopped. Anyway, I was sitting in my a trench and saw one those little spiders moving around a one of the open boxes of ammunition. I was then compelled to save it, since any other soldier would have swat it dead and go on with life. I thought...maybe if I can save just one small life, just one, I could prove a soldier is more just a those who kill and get killed on a battlefield. Something more... ..." The Senior Jedi General had a stone sober expression on his face, but Aasia knew the how hard it had been to talk about the war on his homeworld. This wasn't a little subject for Kota.
"What happened to the spider?"
"It run from me at first!" The Senior Jedi smiled, "Ha! Thousands of years of humans killing their kind taught it fear a giant hand coming at it. I actually tore off one it's thin legs. I go mad at it. Why did it run, I asked, I was getting it out of that hell hole. I kept trying and after another leg came off, I caught it and put it on a tree a few meters away. I like to think that even if I harmed the thing, I still saved it's life. But in the end, I realized that if we never came to fight in that field, none of the spiders there would have soldiers swat at them. And if we never put troops on Kothlis, we would never had to protect the Bothans their. But we did, and we can't back away." Kota looked the major straight in the eye, confidence and fire pour from his gaze, "I'm fighting, Aasia. Even if I have to take the planet by myself. I'm fighting."
The Jedi's blaze spread to Tekshar and the senior officer nodded in full agreement. Then the pair dashed away, separating to individual destinations across the main hanger. The major called out of the chaos of the hanger, pulling militiamen from minor tasks and into a gunships, filling them. Soon half the total forty larties were ready for deployment, the other transports carrying the AT-TEs and TX-130 Saber tanks, and Aasia moved the lead LAAT helmeted and armed with her blaster cannon. Meanwhile, General Kota moving to the starboard hanger.
"You two clone pilots." The Senior Jedi related in booming voice, commanding the two specially armored troopers, rather than asking.
"Sir! At your command!"
"You are to come with me. Will need to make a path to planet for the gunships."
"Sir, Command Isibray hasn't clear the launch of fighters."
"You worry about getting your squadrons ready..." Kota retorted as he trooped along, "I'll worry about the clearance."
"Yes, General!"
The Jedi strode to the far end of the hanger where a lone starfighter sat on it's landing struts. An angled Delta-7B, it was rather unimpressive with it's plain dark blue solid skim. Most Jedi pilots took to personalizing their fighters with dazzle paint, to help camouflage in atmospheres, and meaningful emblems, used to psychic out the enemy in a dogfight. Kota like color blue...sorta...he guessed. The Senior Jedi General didn't put much thought into a craft he barely used. In fact, if the general hadn't the Force on his side, he would probably be the worst pilot in the whole Republic. However, those tiny midi-chlorians gave most Jedi the edge in space, Kota included. Just don't last him to land by himself...it was his third starfighter.
"Astro droid..." At the general word, the round droid head near the center of the craft swerved it's optics towards the Senior Jedi, answering him in beeps and whistles, "Start launch check, prepare for battle."
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I would learn later that while I was mocking around the sewers, Master Jedi Rahm Kota and his forces were fighting to stay alive. The Sanyassans had really thrown them off, nearly blasting the whole cruiser as they jumped into the system. Over one thousand clones and birth-born naval officers died in that first attack. They died so we could live, then die in some other battle.
That was war.
We would soon find out that those thousand weren't the last to die on the last day at Kothlis. Not by far... ...
Author's Note: Review!
